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“There’s a note attached,” Caroline said as she opened the door wider and reached down to pick the gift up, glancing around to see if she could spot any cars or people walking away.

All was quiet.

She brought the box inside and closed the door, glancing up at her husband. “It’s the size of a large jewelry box. What could it be?” She shook it, bringing it to her ear. There was a small thump inside, but nothing clinked.

Jace laughed. “Well, it’s definitely not a bomb. Open the card first.”

“This is not from you, is it?” She narrowed her eyes at her crafty husband. “And tell me you’re not trying to make me think I have a secret admirer.”

“No, I swear.” He held up his hands. “But seeing how excited you are, damn, I wish I’d thought of it first. Your birthday is coming up. Now I’m going to have to up my game.”

“There’s no postage on it.” She turned it over. “It can’t be from my mother. Plus, she’d never use a black ribbon. She’d think it was too somber for a gift. But I happen to think it’s classy.” Caroline tore the little card off the top. It had J&C Stratton scrawled across the front in perfect script. She opened it. Jace leaned over her shoulder to read it with her:

We are beyond sorry that our night together ended so badly. Please forgive us.

This belongs to you. ~ The Slaters

Inside was a small disc.

Caroline gasped. “Is this what I think it is?” She glanced up at her husband.

“I believe it is,” Jace said as he reached for the box and carefully lifted out the cookie-size disc that was nestled in some silky fabric to protect it. “They gave us our video back.”

“Why would they do that?” Caroline said. “I mean, it’s…so bold.” They hadn’t had any contact with the Slaters since that night.

Jace scratched his head. “My best guess? They know how you’re feeling, and with this”—he nodded at the disc in his hand—“you get to see it’s not such a big deal after all? Kind of like watching everyday porn?”

“That’s a shitty guess.”

Jace tossed his head back and laughed. “Well, no matter what the reason, I’m happy you’re joking about it instead of collapsing on the couch like you did after you came home from the hotel. I’m not sure the cushions could take the abuse again.”

“I didn’t collapse, per se,” Caroline said. “I was exhausted from my ordeal and needed to rest.”

“For two full days?”

Caroline snorted. “I needed recovery time.”

“Yeah, and an excuse to eat more of that ice cream,” Jace teased.

“Damn straight. That’s the best stuff I’ve ever tasted. Ice cream has healing powers, you know.”

Jace’s eyebrows rose, and a slow, sly look crossed his face. “You only swear when you’re turned on.” He flicked the disc in front of her eyes. “Seeing this got you hot, didn’t it? Answer me!” He tossed his head back, laughing some more. “I think the Slaters might be geniuses.”

Caroline bit her lip. “Okay, they are far from geniuses. But they are sexy, and Emma is extremely flexible, and I want”—she plucked the disc out of her husband’s hand before he knew what hit him—“to watch this right now.” She ducked under his arm and took off.

Jace caught her by the basement door, picking her up around her middle as she laughed. “Are you serious?” he asked as he turned her, pushing her up against the wall. His look was hazy with need. “I’m into it if you are, but are you sure you’re ready? I don’t want a couch relapse.” He bent his head and covered her mouth with his.

The kiss was desperate and needy.

“I’m sure,” Caroline panted as they broke the kiss. She’d been thinking about little else for three solid weeks. Piper had been a big help in that department. That girl knew her neuroses front to back.

Jace’s lips trailed down her neck, and he began to kiss her collarbone. “Do you think we will be able to hear our own moans in the background? Or hear the sounds of me fucking you?”

Her breath hitched.

Would she be able to hear herself? Or hear Jace?

That would be beyond hot.

She got a wettie instantly. She sighed. “I hope so.”

Jace lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. “You amaze me,” he murmured, angling his head down for another kiss. “And I’m going to enjoy fucking you while we watch this.”

Caroline moaned. “And I’m going to enjoy being fucked.”

(BONUS SCENE: I ended the book here, but I couldn’t resist writing the epilogue. If you enjoyed this book and would like to see what happens when Jace and Caroline head downstairs, go to www.authoramandaabbott.com and look for the “Bonus Scenes” tab. And if you want to stay on top of any new release info, deleted or bonus scenes, giveaways, and more, be sure to sign up for my newsletter!)

To find up-to-date info on all my books, buy links, and more, head to my Amazon author page:

www.amazon.com/author/amandaabbott

NOW FOR A SNEAK PEEK OF BOOK TWO in the PUSHING THE BOUNDARIES SERIES…turn the page…

Sneak Peek

WHAT PIPER NEEDS

1

__________________________

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“Honestly, Piper. You never listen to me anyway. If you did, you might find my advice helpful.”

“I do listen. It’s just hard to focus when, you know, focusing takes so much of my brainpower.” Piper Collins sat in her usual spot, a comfy overstuffed chair by the window, half-listening to her sex therapist, Marianne Cummings, talk about all the changes she needed to make in her life, half-daydreaming about seeing her husband, who was currently away on business.

Piper suppressed a snicker when she thought of her therapist’s last name, which she often did, sometimes right in the middle of a session. She’d chosen this woman solely based on her moniker.

Come on. It’d been a no-brainer.

Piper had been seeing her weekly for the last eight years, without fail, and Marianne was worth the money. But Piper never took her advice.

Well, hardly ever.

Piper was a little more attentive today because she was looking forward to sharing Marianne’s sage advice with her bestie, Caroline Stratton, for their weekly STD meeting tonight, which included wine, lots of laugher, lewd jokes, and plenty of talk about sex.

The acronym stood for: Sexual Therapy for Deviants.

It was an utterly nonsensical name for their wine-soaked therapy sessions, but Piper thought it was funny, so she had christened it as such the very first night, and STD it had stayed.

Caroline, her best friend and neighbor, had gone through her own sexual metamorphosis a few months ago, and was still adjusting. Michael, Piper’s husband of almost ten years, had spilled the beans about their own extracurricular-sex lifestyle, which had propelled the Strattons into their own experimentation. But Caroline wouldn’t be caught dead talking to a stranger about sex. It had been hard enough for her to open up to Piper.

Piper figured sharing what she learned from Marianne was her way of paying it forward.

But, in reality, the new weekly STD meetings were helping Piper almost as much she could see they were helping Caroline. Caroline had actually made Piper feel more normal than she had in years, so there was something to be said about your girlfriends being your best counselors.

Marianne interrupted her thoughts. “It’s a wonder your brain isn’t the consistency of scrambled eggs with all that’s going on in there. I see you’re thinking about something hard.”