Blurring the Lines Roni Loren Read Online Free
PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF RONI LOREN
"Hot and romantic, with an edge of suspense."
—Shayla Black, New York Times bestselling author of Wicked for You
"Unique and emotional."
—USA Today
"A mix of blistering (and kinky) sexuality, emotional malaise, and dangerous suspense."
—Romance Novel News
"A must-read!"
—Nocturne Reads
"[A] steamy, sexy yet emotionally gripping story."
—Julie Cross, New York Times bestselling author of the Storm novels
"I dare you to fifty-fifty attempt to put it down."
—Cassandra Carr, author of Burning Love
"An angsty backstory made cute by a hero who doesn't know how perfect he is. Don't miss this Ranch treat!"
—Carly Phillips, New York Times bestselling author
"Steamy, occasionally shocking, and relentlessly intense, this book isn't for the faint of eye."
—RT Book Reviews
"Loren does an incredible chore portraying the BDSM lifestyle in a sexy and romantic way . . . Loren should definitely be put on the must-read list."
—The Book Pushers
"Similar a roller-coaster ride . . . When yous hitting the concluding page, y'all say, 'Let's ride it again.'"
—Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews
"Roni Loren's books are masterful, story-driven, sensual, and very erotic . . . Definitely one of my take-to-get-as-soon-as-possible series!"
—Under the Covers Volume Blog
TITLES Past RONI LOREN
Crash Into You
Melt Into You
Fall Into Yous
Not Until Yous
Caught Up in You
Demand You Tonight
Nothing Betwixt Us
Call on Me
Off the Clock
NOVELLAS
Nonetheless Into Yous
Forever Starts This evening
Nice Girls Don't Ride
Yours All Along
Break Me Downwards
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Copyright © 2016 by Roni Loren.
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eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-18418-three
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Loren, Roni.
Off the clock / Roni Loren. — Berkley trade paperback edition.
pages ; cm
ISBN 978-0-425-27854-3 (paperback)
I. Title.
PS3612.O764O34 2016
813'.6—dc23
2015031568
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley trade paperback edition / January 2016
Encompass art: Leisure Legs © Kichigan / Shutterstock.
Cover design by Diana Kolsky.
This is a piece of work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the production of the writer'south imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, concern establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
To my family unit, always
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
In that location are then many people behind the scenes that aid these books happen. I could never thank them enough.
Donnie, for your dearest and laughter and unflagging support.
Kidlet, for being crawly.
Mom, for listening to me ramble virtually writing problems fifty-fifty though near of the time I'm probably not making whatsoever sense at all.
De, for e'er having full confidence in me no matter what.
Julie Cantankerous, Dawn Alexander, and Jamie Wesley, for being my "friends at the office" while I was writing this book. Thank yous for the venting sessions, the celebrating, and the gossiping.
My amanuensis, Sara Megibow, for always championing my books and for doing power reads when I'k having book panic attacks.
My editor, Kate Seaver, for being such a pleasure to work with and for loving these books.
Taylor Lunsford, for beta reading, being honest, and for saying, "What near Eli?" when I was brainstorming the brusque story.
And always, always, to my readers, for existence fearless romantics, for reading my books, and for existence the crawly people that you are.
Thank you!
CONTENTS
Praise for the Novels of Roni Loren
Titles by Roni Loren
Title Folio
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Affiliate 2
Affiliate iii
Chapter 4
Chapter five
Chapter six
Affiliate 7
Affiliate 8
Affiliate 9
Chapter 10
Chapter eleven
Chapter 12
Affiliate thirteen
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Affiliate 16
Chapter 17
Chapter xviii
Chapter 19
Affiliate 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Affiliate 23
Affiliate 24
Affiliate 25
Affiliate 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Affiliate 32
Chapter 33
Affiliate 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
About the Author
The Pleasure Principle: The human being instinct to seek pleasure and avoid hurting.
One is very crazy when in dear.
—SIGMUND FREUD
1
Then
"I'm going to wrap my fingers in your hair and slide my other mitt upwards your thigh. You have to exist quiet for me. We tin't let anyone know."
Marin Blitz paused in the dark hallway of Harker Hall, her tennis shoes going silent on the shiny linoleum and the green Exit signs humming softly in the groundwork. She didn't dare move. She'd been on the mode to grab a soda and a snack out of the vending machine. Her caffeine supply had run low and watching participants snore in the sleep lab wasn't exactly stimulating stuff. Only that silk-smooth male vocalisation had hit her like a thunderclap, waking upward every sense that had gone slow with burnout.
She'd assumed she was the merely one left in the psychology building at this hour besides the two study subjects in the sleep lab. It was spring pause and the classrooms and labs were supposed to be locked up—all except the one she was working in. That'southward what the girl she was filling in for this week had told her. But there was no mistaking the male voice every bit it drifted into the hallway.
"I bet yous'd similar being fucked up against the wall. My cock pumping in yous hard and fast."
Holy. Shit. Marin pressed her lips together. Obviously two other people idea they were alone, too. Had students snuck into the edifice to go it on? Or maybe it was one of the professors. Oh, God, delight don't let it exist a professor. She should turn around right now and go dorsum to Profess
or Roberts's office. Terminal thing she needed was to see one of her teachers in some compromising position. She would die of mortification.
But instead of backing up, she establish herself tilting her caput to isolate where the voice was coming from, and her anxiety moved forwards a few steps.
"Yeah, you like that. I know. I bet you're wet for me right at present just thinking near how it would experience. Mayhap I should check. Keep your hands against the wall."
A hot shiver zipped through Marin, making every role of her hyperaware.
"I'chiliad so difficult for y'all. Tin can you feel how much I want you?" That vocalization was like velvet against Marin'due south skin. She closed her eyes, imagining the picture the stranger was painting—some hot guy behind her, pinning her to the wall, his erection rubbing against her. She'd never been in that situation, simply her body certain knew how to react to the idea. Her hand drifted up to her neck and pressed against her pharynx, her pulse beating similar hummingbird wings beneath her fingertips.
She waited with held breath to hear the woman's response, but no voice answered the man's question. Tin can you feel how much I desire yous? he'd asked. And hell if Marin wasn't dying to know. She strained to hear.
"I tug your panties off and trail my hand upwardly your thighs until I tin feel your hot, slick . . ."
Marin braced her other hand against the wall and leaned so far forwards that i more inch would've sent her toppling over. Your hot . . .
"Goddammit. Motherfucker."
The curse snapped Marin out of the spell she'd fallen into, and she straightened instantly, her face hot and her heartbeat pounding in places information technology shouldn't be. There was a groaning squeak of an office chair and another slew of colorful swearing.
Whoever had been saying the dingy things had changed his tone of vocalism and at present sounded x kinds of annoyed. A wadded-up brawl of paper came flying out of an open doorway a few yards down. She followed the arc and watched the paper land on the floor. But then did she notice there were 3 others similar it already littering the hallway.
Lamplight shifted on the pale linoleum equally if the person inside the part was moving effectually, and Marin flattened herself against the wall, trying to make herself one with it. Please don't come out. Delight don't come out. The silent prayer whispered through her as she counted the doors betwixt her and the mystery voice, mentally labeling each 1. When she realized information technology was one of the offices they allow the Ph.D. students use and non a professor'southward, she allow out a breath.
Either way, she had no intention of alerting her hall mate that he wasn't alone. But at least she could terminate worrying she'd gotten all fevered over one of her professors. At present she just had to figure out how to get past the damn door without letting him see her. She'd gotten used to skipping meals to salve money since starting higher a few months ago. Simply she wasn't going to make it through the side by side two hours of information entry and sleep monitoring if she didn't go some caffeine. No wonder none of the upperclassmen had wanted to fill in during break.
Marin's gaze slid over to the stairwell. If she stayed on the other side of the hall in the shadows, she could probably sneak by unnoticed. She moved to the right side wall and crept forwards on tranquility anxiety. But equally soon as she got within a few steps of the shaft of lite coming from the occupied room, a large shadow blotted information technology into darkness.
She'd been and then focused on that axle of calorie-free that it took her a moment to annals what had happened. She froze and her gaze hopped upward, landing on the guy who filled the doorway. No, not merely any guy, a very familiar guy. Tall and lean and effortlessly disheveled. Everything within her went on alert. Oh, God, not him.
He had his hand braced on the doorjamb, and his expression was equally surprised as hers probably was. "What the hell?"
"I—" She could already feel her face heating and her throat closing—some bizarre, instant response she seemed to have to this human being. She'd spent way too many hours in the back of her Intro to Homo Sexuality class memorizing each piffling item of Donovan Westward. Well, his contour, really. And his walk. And the style his shoulders filled out his T-shirts. As a teaching assistant, he usually only stopped in at the outset of class to bring Professor Paxton papers or something. Only each time he walked in now, it was like some bat point for her body to go haywire.
Information technology'd started with the twenty-four hour period he'd had to take over the lecture when Professor Paxton was sick. He'd talked about arousal and the concrete mechanics of that process. It was technical. He'd been wearing a T-shirt that read Sometimes I Feel Like a Full Freud. It shouldn't accept been sexy. But Lord, it'd been one of the hottest experiences of her life. He'd talked with his hands a lot and had evidently been a little nervous to be in front of the form. Only at the aforementioned time, he'd been and so confident in the information, had answered questions with all this enthusiasm. Marin hadn't heard a give-and-take in the rest of her classes that day for all the fantasizing she'd been doing.
But at present she was staring. And blushing. And more often than not looking like an idiot. Yay.
She turned fully toward him and cleared her throat, trying to grade some kind of not-weird response. Merely when her gaze speedily traveled over him again, all semblance of language left her. Oh, shit. She tried to drag her focus back to his face and cement it in that location. His very handsome face—a shadow of stubble, vivid blue optics, hair that fell a little too long around the ears. Lips that she'd thought mode too much about. All good. All great.
But despite the prissy view, she couldn't ignore the affair in the bottom edge of her vision, the affair that had defenseless her attention on that quick one time-over. The hard outline in his jeans screamed at her to stare—to analyze, to burn the picture into her brain. The need to expect warred with embarrassment. The latter finally won and her cheeks flared even hotter. She adjusted her glasses. "Uh, yeah, hello. Sorry. I thought I was alone in the building. Didn't mean to interrupt . . . whatever."
He stared at her for a second, his brows knitting. "Interrupt?"
Goddammit, her gaze flicked there once more. The view was like a siren song she couldn't ignore. Massive erection, dead ahead! She glanced abroad. But not quick enough for him non to find.
"Ah, shit." He stepped behind the doorway and hid his lesser half. "Sorry. It'southward, uh . . . non what it looks similar."
She snorted, an involuntary, nervous, one-half-choking noise that seemed to echo in the clangorous hallway. Really smooth. She tried to force some kind of wit past the awkwardness that was overtaking her. "Ohh-kay. If you say so."
He laughed, this deep chuckle that seemed to come direct out of his chest and fill the infinite betwixt them with warmth. Lord, even his laugh was sexy. Then not fair.
"Well, okay, it is that. But why information technology'due south there is just an occupational hazard."
His laugh and easy tone settled her some. Or maybe information technology was the fact that he was obviously feeling awkward, too. "Occupational run a risk? Must be more interesting than the sleep lab."
He jabbed a thumb toward the part. "It is. Sexuality department. I'one thousand working on my dissertation under Professor Paxton."
She could tell he didn't recognize her from course. Not surprising since she sabbatum in the dorsum of the large stadium-manner room and tried to be as invisible as possible. Plus, she was wearing her spectacles tonight. "I'yard with Professor Roberts. I'k monitoring the sleep study this night."
"Oh, right on. I didn't realize he'd taken on another grad student. I'thousand Donovan, past the manner."
I know.
"Mari." The nickname rolled off her lips. No one called her that anymore. Only she knew he probably graded her papers, and the name Marin wasn't all that common. She forced a pocket-size smile, not correcting him that she was about equally far from a grad student as she could get. She wanted to be ane. Would be ane solar day if she could effigy out how to beget information technology. She'd managed to test out of two semesters of classes, just high IQ or not, that dream was however a long fashion off—a bespeak of light at the end of a very long, twisting tunnel.
Marin shifted on her anxiety. "I was heading to get a Coke so that I don'
t autumn asleep from doing information entry and watching people snore. You demand anything?"
"A Coke?" He glanced down the hall. "Don't waste product a buck fifty on the vending machine. I've got a mini-fridge in here. Y'all can come in and grab whatever y'all want."
Are you an option? I'd like to catch you lot. The errant idea made her bite her lips together and then none of those words would accidentally slip out. She had no idea where this side of herself was coming from. Not that she'd actually know what to do afterward she grabbed Donovan anyhow. This was a twentysomething-year-old man, not i of the few boys she'd awkwardly made out with in loftier school. This was a guy who'd know how to exercise all those things she'd only read almost in books.
"No, that's okay, I mean . . ." She shifted her gaze abroad, willing her face not to go red once again.
He defenseless her meaning and laughed. "Oh, right. Sorry. Aye, y'all should probably avoid strange men with erections who invite you inside for a drink. Good safety programme, Mari." He lifted his hands and stepped back fully into the doorway, the pronounced outline in his pants gone. "Merely I promise, you lot're all good now. Yous just caught me at an . . . unfortunate moment. And at present I'm going to bribe you with free soda and so that you don't tell the other grads in the department nigh what you saw. I proceed these tardily hours and work through holidays to avoid that kind of torture."
He gave her a tilted grinning that made something flutter in her chest. She should probably head straight back to the office she was supposed to be working in. He was older. Kind of her instructor. If he institute out she was one of Pax's students, he'd probably freak out that she'd seen him similar this. Only the chance to spend a few minutes with him was too tempting to refuse.
Plus, the way he was looking at her settled something inside her. Commonly she shut downward effectually guys. Being jerked around from schoolhouse to school on her mom's whims hadn't left her with much time to develop savvy when it came to these things. But something about Donovan made her want to footstep forward instead of run away. "Yeah, okay. Free is good."
"Cool." His face brightened. Maybe he'd been as lone and bored tonight as she had been. He aptitude over and picked upwardly the papers he'd thrown into the hallway and then swept a hand in forepart of him. "Welcome to my personal hell. The fridge is in the back corner."
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