Free Not Until You: Part V by Roni Loren

body sagged against him. “Thank you, God.”
    “Don’t thank Him yet,” Foster said, placing a kiss on her shoulder. “I’m not done with you. You’ve earned a punishment tonight.”
    She stiffened at that. “What? Why?”
    “I let you get away with breaking one promise tonight in not checking the door, but I’m not going to tolerate a second rule broken. Lying to me is unacceptable.”
    She turned in his arms, facing him, and even with the blindfold on, he could sense her defiant stare. “I haven’t lied.”
    “You got upset tonight because I hadn’t taken the time to be open with you about my life and my past. You wanted honesty, and I gave it to you. But you didn’t give me the same courtesy.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her tone had gone petulant, but her voice wavered—the threat of punishment, no doubt, knocking her off balance. He’d expected that. She was a perfectionist, the A student, the girl who bent over backward to do what she was “supposed to” in everyone else’s eyes. Being admonished or corrected for anything would be decidedly difficult for her.
    But pushing her past her comfort zone was necessary and would only make it better for them both.
    “Oh, really? So when exactly were you going to tell me you hadn’t told your family you’re staying here?”
    She made a face like he’d pinched her. “Foster, I’m sorry, it’s just so—”
    He pressed his fingers over her mouth, hushing her. “Don’t waste anymore words, angel. It’s time to apologize my way.”

Read more of Cela and Foster’s red-hot romance in
    Part VI of NOT UNTIL YOU
    NOT UNTIL YOU SURRENDER
    Available from InterMix on July 16, 2013

Keep reading for a special excerpt
    from the second book in Roni Loren’s Loving on the Edge series
    MELT INTO YOU
    Available now from Berkley Heat

Evan Kennedy swigged the last of the tequila from the mini-bottle as her fiancé’s moans of pleasure drifted through the wall behind her. She set the bottle down and sank back onto the bed, curling her pillow around her ears. This was torture—absolute Geneva Convention–worthy stuff. Next time they stayed in a hotel, she would make sure the suite had two bedrooms that didn’t share a wall.
    How was she supposed to sleep with that kind of erotic soundtrack in the background? Especially when the only company she had in her room was the hotel’s mini-bar and a subpar selection of cable stations.
    The heavy thudding of a headboard banging against the wall started up, rattling the three empty bottles on her bedside table. Oh, the guys were on their game tonight—obviously celebrating the good news they’d all gotten earlier in the evening. No telling how long their show would go on. With a heavy sigh, she threw the comforter off her legs and climbed out of the bed, happy to find she only wavered slightly.
    She needed air. Or at least some place where two happy lovers weren’t sharing passionate, wall-rattling sex while she lay in bed alone.
    She yanked on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then tucked the last mini-bottle of tequila into her pocket. The bars downstairs would be closed by now, and although she rarely drank, tonight she had the urge to get comfortably numb. She just had to make sure not to run into any of the people here for her and Daniel’s couples’ seminar. That certainly wouldn’t reflect well on the company. And the last thing she felt like doing was getting into a row with Daniel about “professional image.”
    After running a brush through her hair, she stepped out of her bedroom and threw one last glance at Daniel’s closed door. The moans had turned to dueling male grunts. Clearly both parties were having a good time. An unexpected pang of sadness hit her in the gut, and her eyes burned as if tears were going to flow.
    What in the world?
Her hand went to her cheek, but of course no actual tears were there. She never cried. But that burning was the first sign she’d had in years