Somebody’s Wife The Jackson Brothers, Book 3
Copyright 2013 Jasmine Haynes
Available as an e-book only
Previously published in 2006 as part of the Somebody’s Lover anthology
“I agree that it takes a real man to love a woman, but it takes a talented author to write exceptional erotica such as Somebody’s Lover.” Book Fetish Reviews
“Each story was sensuous, beautifully written and some scenes were combustible. Jasmine Haynes did a wonderful job bringing real emotions to the characters.” Joyfully Reviewed
“Running the spectrum of emotions, this book made me cheer for the underdog, cry for the heartbreak, and sigh over the sheer romance of the stories and characters.” Contemporary Romance Writers
A family marked by tragedy...
Three years ago, Lou Jackson, eldest son, died in a work accident. And nothing has been the same since for the Jacksons. They lost their heart and soul the day Lou died, even as matriarch Evelyn tries to keep them together. But things are changing and the family will either find their way back to each other. Or they’ll be torn asunder.
Connie Jackson wants another baby, but her husband no longer desires her. She’s beginning to suspect he’s having an affair. Once the woman with the smartest kids, the happiest home, and the best marriage, now she’s just somebody’s wife whose husband is cheating on her.
There’s only one thing to do. Connie’s going to have to seduce her husband back into her bed.
Mitch Jackson loves his wife too much to ever look at another woman. But his brother’s death has taught him that life can fall apart in the blink of an eye, and the fear of leaving his family defenseless if he’s gone has robbed him of a decent night’s sleep for the last three years. And now his wife wants another child they can’t afford.
When Connie pulls out all the stops, she becomes the seductress he can’t resist. Mitch has only one option, but if Connie ever finds out, it will mean the end of their marriage.
Somebody’s Wife The Jackson Brothers, Book 3 Copyright 2013 Jasmine Haynes
The scent of Connie’s flowery lotion seeped into the hall. Inside, only one bedside lamp was lit, throwing the corners of the room into shadow and delicately lighting his wife’s profile. Even after ten years of marriage and two kids, she took good care of herself. Some women went to pot, but not Connie. She was as gorgeous as the day he married her. More so, in fact. Those few hated extra pounds she’d never been able to shed after pregnancy gave her luscious curves and perfect breasts with the most enticing pair of nipples.
One leg raised to the stool at her vanity, she smoothed cream into her skin, long strokes along her calves, up her thigh, then back again. He watched, mesmerized by the silk of her skin in the soft lamplight and the rhythmic caress of her fingers. The lace thing she wore barely covered her butt cheeks, and her hair cascaded over her shoulder and down her arm.
She smiled at him. “Did you fall asleep out there, honey?”
He’d missed her smile. “What are you wearing?”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t just buy it. I was cleaning out my drawers this afternoon and ran across it.” She dropped one leg to the floor, then raised the other and started the creaming procedure all over again.
They hadn’t made love in two months. Almost three. He remembered it like a jailed man remembers his last taste of freedom. His mom had taken the kids after one of the barbecues, and the minute the door was closed, the curtains pulled, and the house silent, Connie unzipped his shorts and climbed on top of him right there in the front room.
He’d come after four fast, hard strokes inside her luscious body. His cock filled out his jeans. He’d slept well that night, really well.
Christ, he loved that she loved sex. When they were younger, it was anytime anywhere they could manage it. A little risk had made it even better.
After ten years and two kids, they’d grown past that stage. But Connie hadn’t stopped liking sex.
He hadn’t stopped either despite his constant worries. He wanted her now.
She’d started on her arms now, silking up those smooth limbs. Facing him as she stroked, she arched her neck and blended lotion into her throat, then her upper chest, her fingertips dipping down beneath the thin lace. Her dusky pink nipples peeked through the flimsy covering, tightening into nubs as he watched.
“I asked if you were tired.”
“Oh. Yeah.” The outfit was cut high on her hips, her pretty little bush clearly visible through the lace.
“That’s too bad.”
“What?” Her scent wrapped around his gonads. He couldn’t think.
She jutted her hip, putting one hand on bare skin, her fingertips flirting with the lace edging. “I said, it’s too bad that you’re tired.”
God, he wanted her, needed to sink inside her gorgeous flesh and come until he was beyond worrying about anything but the warm fit of her body around him.
Hell, he’d be satisfied taking one tight nipple into his mouth and sucking it like fruit. He could taste her, feel her. His gaze fixed on the ripe melons of her breasts. He licked dry lips.