You’ll meet four unforgettable men in the steamy new anthology Real Men Last All Night, featuring mega bestselling author Lora Leigh!
Whether he’s the guy next door who loves you unconditionally or the poster boy for danger… there’s a guy here for you—take the quiz below to find out which one of these REAL MEN you’ll stay up with all night!
Today’s top erotic romance writers— Lora Leigh, Lori Foster,Cheyenne McCray, and Heidi Betts—come together for a steamy read of four sexy stories about women who discover that real men last all night. We’ve got an excerpt from Lora Leigh’s entry, ‘Cooper’s Fall.’
From ‘Cooper’s Fall’ by Lora Leigh
Buy Real Men Last All Night here!
He couldn’t get it out of his mind. Sarah Fox, spread out on the cement by her pool, long heavy ringlets fanned around her head, her curvy body slick and hot, and oh so aroused.
He jacked off to it after he got back in the house. Hell, as if he could help it. The more he thought about it, the harder he got. He hadn’t been so damned hot for a woman in years. Not since his first woman, in fact.
Who would have thought it? Timid little Miss Sarah.
He shook his head again before grabbing a beer and heading to his back deck. Sarah’s privacy fence was over seven feet tall and extended around the full half acre of land behind her house. His white wooden fence connected with her at a corner and extended almost double her area.
He didn’t have a pool, though. He narrowed his eyes at the backyard and considered it before grinning and lifting the beer to his lips. He’d just end up in trouble. He’d never be able to keep his buddies out of it. It was hard enough keeping them out of his house.
He grinned, wondering if Miss Sarah would let him use her pool. Maybe while she was tanning herself beneath the hot Texas sun. All ripe and wet.
He grimaced at that thought of that. Piercings aside, luscious sweet little body aside, Miss Sarah Fox wasn’t for the likes of him.
He finished his beer before heading into the bathroom to shower and change. Owning one of the roughest bars in the area could get dicey at times. He liked to be there before too late in the evening.
He was leaving the house, locking the door behind him when Sarah’s compact, boring-looking little sedan pulled into her driveway.
He felt the hot lick of her gaze for just a second before the car shut off and she was moving from the vehicle. She kept her head down.
Cooper couldn’t help but watch as she rounded the back of the car and opened the trunk. She pulled out a canvas bag—groceries he assumed—and strode quickly up the drive to the house.
Ignoring him.
“Hello, Miss Sarah,” he called out as she stepped up on her porch and came to a hard stop.
Her head lifted, eyes widened. “H-hello.” A small smile, not hardly a smile tipped her lips. Pouty lips. He liked pouty lips.
Cooper stepped across the drive. There wasn’t much distance that separated their particular houses. The two homes had been built by two sisters, close together. The property extended out behind and beside one side of the houses, bunching them close while other neighbors were kept at a distance.
Cooper couldn’t even explain why he was pushing this. Except he’d already jacked off twice today because of her. He gave her one of his trademark slow smiles and watched the little flush that filled her cheeks.
She watched him carefully, making no move to unlock the door, holding her keys carefully with one hand, the canvas bag with the other. As though she hadn’t known him for two years. Wary. Pausing to be careful. Miss Sarah wasn’t a casual person by any means.
His eyes almost narrowed. She was in a carefully disguised protective stance. Keys to slash out with, bag to hit out with. Her body was balanced, ready to flee at a moment’s notice. Now, why the hell would something that tiny, that damned shy, be on guard against a neighbor?
“Can I help you Mr. Cooper?” she asked carefully as he leaned against the side of her house.
He let his smile widen. “Yes ma’am, you sure can.” He nodded. “You can tell me why a pretty little thing like you is all alone on a Friday night? There should be a law against it.”
“I’m sure there should be.” There was the barest hint of cynicism in the look she gave him.
“Boys around here didn’t use to be so dumb.” He shook his head. “Leaving a pretty girl like you twiddling her thumbs.”
“I’m into men Mr. Cooper, not boys” she told him coolly. “And I’ve been a woman, not a little girl for long time now. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
There was no fear in her. None he could detect. Wariness, suspicion, a whole lot of arousal, but not fear.
“No ma’am.” He finally shook his head and eased back.
He wasn’t going there, he decided. There was something about Miss Sarah Fox that had every male instinct inside him rioting. And he wasn’t the man this delicate, this gentle woman, needed. No, Miss Sarah needed a forever kind of guy, and Cooper just wasn’t the forever kind. “Good evening, Miss Sarah.”
“Mr. Cooper.” Her voice stopped him.
He turned back to her, his brow arching at the confidence, the sudden look of a woman that sees more than she ever showed the world.
“Yes Ma’am?”
“My name is Sarah. Not Miss Sarah. Or Miss Fox if you prefer. But after two years, uncounted plates of cookies and bowls of soup, I think you can call me by my name.”
There was no censure in her voice, just quiet command. That quiet command almost had him chuckling. She wasn’t a pushover and she was finally letting him know it.
“Yes ma’am.” He nodded back to her. “I’ll see you around.”
“Ma’am wasn’t one of the choices,” he heard her mutter as the scrape of the storm door told him she was going into the house.
It slammed behind her as he stepped into his truck and let a low burst of laughter pass his lips. Damn if she didn’t have spirit. Maybe Miss Sarah wasn’t the timid miss everyone had grown to believe she was since moving here. Seemed to him, she just might have a little fire in her.
Hell, he knew she had fire. Too much fire for a man to step into without giving it a hell of a lot of thought first. And for a man like Cooper, it took more than just thought on his part. More than just fire on her part.
Too damned bad. He wouldn’t have minded sharing her bed. Her pool. And anything else she wanted to give up to him. For a little while.
Sarah closed the door on her house and leaned back against it to let out a long, slow breath. Oh Lord, that man was seriously hot. She dropped her keys to the side table, dropped the bag of groceries to the floor, and waved her hands over her flushed face.
Those jeans were snug. They cupped his ass. His T-shirt highlighted a six-pack that would make any woman’s eyes bug out. And those arms. Serious biceps. That face. Rugged and tough. He wasn’t pretty boy. He looked dangerous and hard, and so hot he made her perspire.
Damn.
Just the sound of his voice had her creaming her panties. And that was so not fair, because she still just hadn’t gotten the hang of masturbation. She could get to a certain point, she get just almost there, but only sometimes did she actually manage to go over.
She had all the books. And she practiced. There had to be a trick to it. And she really wished she could find that trick, because her neighbor made her so hot she was changing panties several times a day and driving herself crazy with the arousal.
She picked up her canvas bag, slid off her sandals, and padded barefoot through the house to the large, airy kitchen in the back. There were a lot of windows spaced around the room, making it seem as though the backyard was a part of the room.
The pool had been the selling point. She loved the pool. She loved the way the sun spilled in the kitchen at dawn, and how cozy and warm she felt in the house.
And it was all hers.
She put away the milk and eggs, the bag of coffee, the sugar and cream. A pack of cookies and some sweet rolls went on the counter, a carefully wrapped steak went in the fridge, with wine and a baking potato on the counter.
Dinner.
One steak. One potato. One glass of wine. Perhaps on the deck.
She stared out at the deck, bracing her arms on the counter and watching the water in the pool as she frowned and considered her neighbor. Ethan Cooper. He’d introduced himself right after she moved in. Told her if she had any problems to let him know. And if any of his friends that came over sometimes bothered her or offended her, then he definitely wanted to know. And he’d been serious.
His friends weren’t that bad though. They were rough- looking, funny, and always joking with her. She thought perhaps they talked to her more than Ethan had over the years. But they never flirted with her. They never came onto her. She could be everyone’s kid sister for the way they treated her.
Not that she wanted his friends. She wanted Ethan. But, she glared at the pool, it was enough to make a woman wonder if perhaps she was completely not attractable to the opposite sex.
She pushed back from the counter, stared at the potato, and sighed again. A meal alone. On a Friday night. She’d lived here for two years, and had never noticed how little others people wanted anything to really do with her, until now.
And she went out every day, she made sure she did, if only to buy her dinner. She was friendly, wasn’t she?
She was lonely. She trailed her fingers over the wide kitchen island, drifted through the house, and frowned at the odd feeling. She hadn’t been lonely in a very long time. She’d been too busy, too concerned with surviving to worry about loneliness.
Her hand lifted to her chest as she stopped in the middle of the living room and stared at the floor. She rubbed at the scars, almost as though she could feel the horrendous fear and pain that she had felt when they had been made.
She shook her head. No, she wasn’t thinking about that. She had pushed it to the back of her mind and it was staying there. She had dealt with it. She had survived it. That was all that mattered. Wasn’t it?
But had she survived it, really? She was still hiding. She was still keeping herself locked in her work as though each minute meant success or failure. And it didn’t. Not anymore.
She had built a life for herself. In the past two years she had picked up some great contracts within the business she was in. She didn’t have to worry about going hungry, and she didn’t have to worry about losing her home—her uncle Martin had made certain of that. She never had to worry about that again.
So why was she standing here like a lost puppy?
Because she didn’t know how to have fun. She’d been to the bars before, no one even asked her to dance. She had joined the business club in town, but they only met once a month and they rarely did anything but talk about how small the community was and how high taxes were, and how the good jobs were closer to Corpus Christi.
Maybe a small town really was a bad idea. She had thought she would find it easier to fit in here; she hadn’t expected it to be harder.
It was Friday night. She had a steak and potato waiting. At least she had a few good books to go with it.
Cooper strode around the bar a week later, his eyes narrowed against the smoke and gloom, watching for drugs more than anything else. He had only a few hard, firm rules in his place. No drugs. They fought in the parking lot if they wanted to use their fists, no one hit a woman, whether she was a lady or not, and no one, but no one, dealt in his place.
His bartender, an ex-Ranger like himself was holding down the bar with the help of one of the local college kids. The boy was a hard worker, eager to learn. There were two other bouncers, ex-Rangers as well, and as hard and tough as any Cooper knew, despite their medical discharges from the service. They were all termed “disabled vets.” But his men were as hard and as efficient as they had ever been in the military. Maybe just not as fast, he thought with a grin.
The Broken Bar was one of the most popular spots in the area. Most weekdays were busy, but the weekends could turn into a mad house if they weren’t careful.
The band on the other end of the cavernous building was belting a slow country tune and couples were circling the floor. There was the usual assortment of bikers, college kids and general bar hoppers.
Motioning to the closest bouncer he indicated the other man should take his spot as Cooper headed back toward the bar. As he did, he nearly came to a full blown, hard stop.
Hell. No he didn’t need this.
There, standing in the doorway like a wary angel, stood his intrepid little neighbor. And she wasn’t wearing a dress. Or a skirt. She was wearing jeans that made her legs look like the best wet dream a man could have. Low on the hip, belted over a sleeveless blouse that was buttoned damned near to the neck and wearing boots.
And her hair was down.
He felt a hard strike of jealousy at the sight of the men whose eyes found her, lusted for her, worshipped those long, wild curls.
Shit. How the hell was he supposed to get her out of here? This was not the place for Miss Sarah.
Pushing the fingers of one hand through his hair in irritation, he moved toward her, cutting through the room on a diagonal path as she headed for the bar.
Didn’t she know the scum she could find in a damned bar? What the hell was she doing here?
And it should be damned illegal for a woman to move like that in a pair jeans. Like they were loving every step she took in them. Like they were hugging her shapely little ass like possessive hands.
Son of a bitch.
“Hi.” She smiled at his bartender. Jake damned near dropped the bottle of whisky he was holding. “Could I have a whiskey, straight?”
Jake’s brown eyes flickered over her. Yeah, she didn’t look the whiskey type.
“I have some wine coolers back here,” Jake offered. “Fruity ones.”
Cooper almost laughed at Jake’s floored expression.
“No.” She shook her head and Cooper caught her expression in the mirror behind the bar. She was one determined lady. “Just the whiskey please.” Then she named her brand. “If you have it?”
Damned expensive. Oh yeah, they had it.
Cooper moved to the end of the bar, next to the stool she had snagged, leaned his forearms on it and stared at her silently as she turned to him, her eyes widening just a little bit.
“Mr. Cooper.” That little hint of a smile. A little bit of dimple.
“Just Cooper.” His lips quirked as he stared back at her, watching as her gaze slid to the tattoo curling around his bicep.
She let her teeth rake over her lip before meeting his eyes again. Jake chose that moment to sit the shot of whiskey in front of her.
Cooper arched his brow as she lifted it, sipped as delicately as a lady would a glass of wine, then sat the shot glass back on the bar without a grimace.
“It’s a busy bar.” She looked around. “It’s been like this every time I’ve come. Even during the week.”
Her voice lifted as she turned away. When she turned back, that little dimple peeked out again. Her smile was careful, as though she didn’t quite know what to do with those pretty lips.
Cooper lifted his hand and propped his jaw in his palm as he just stared at her.
She fiddled with the shot glass for a moment, then surprised him when she lifted it and took the half shot back without a single choke or cough. Her lips tightened and he imagined the burn that hit her, his body tightening as her expression took that relaxed, slightly pleasurable look of a woman relishing the sizzle.
Now that was a look he had never seen on a woman’s face, and it made him hard. Hell. Harder. He’d been hard for her over a week now.
“Another?” He asked, glancing to the shot glass.
“No, thank you.” She shook her head, a hint of vulnerable, self-consciousness entering her eyes as she stared around the bar.
She turned her gaze to the band, the dancers, her profile faintly wistful as she watched them.
“I’ve been here several times.” She turned back to him, those wide pale blue eyes stroking over his face. Hell, it was almost a caress.
“I’ve seen you.” He nodded.
She looked down at the shot glass, played with it for a moment, then stared back at the dance floor as the band slid into a rousing dance tune.
Damn, the look on her face. She wanted to be out there. He could see it, feel it. So what the hell was holding her back? Each time she had come into the bar, she had sat at one of the back tables, alone. She had watched, drank a soda or wine cooler or two and left.
She had never come to the bar. She had never drank his finest whiskey with a curl of pleasure tightening her face. He would have noticed. He always noticed Miss Sarah.
“Miss Sarah…”
“Sarah.” Her head swung around, those wild curls feathering over her shoulder and there was that little dimple again. “I’m not that old, Mr. Cooper.”
“Cooper,” he murmured, his jaw still braced on his palm as he watched her.
“Cooper.” There was the slightest edge of delight in her gaze then. “Please call me Sarah.”
“Yes ma’am.” He smiled back at her, just to watch her eyes flare in irritation.
She lowered her eyes again, played with the shot glass then lifted her gaze back to Jake and indicated another shot.
Cooper almost laughed out loud. Jake gave him a hard, disapproving glance, as though he thought Cooper could keep her from drinking.
And Miss Sarah caught that look. For a moment, Cooper saw a shattered, weary pain flash in her eyes. Then a tight smile twisted her lips.
“Forget it.” She fumbled in her jean pocket, pulled out a few bills and slapped them on the bar. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
Fuck!
Cooper straightened as she slid off the bar, head held high, and all but ran toward the door. What the hell?
Following her, Cooper felt something tighten in his gut. A strange, almost tender amusement mixed with confusion. Hell. She looked like she was going to cry when Jake didn’t want to serve her the whiskey. As though somehow, she had been rejected.
“Hey whoa. Sair. Come on, hold up.” He caught up with her in the graveled parking lot, his fingers curling over a arm so damned soft it felt like heated silk, as he shortened her name. Not Miss Sarah, or Sarah. His Sair.
She jerked away from him, turned on him, her face flushed, eyes glittering. And those were tears.
She blinked them back furiously.
“I got the message, Mr. Cooper,” she snapped. “Don’t worry, I won’t come back into your bar again.”
“Whoa. Sair.” He moved in front of her, staring down at her. “What message did you get exactly?”
Sarah stared back at him, battling her tears. “That makes half a dozen times I’ve been in that damned bar.” She swung her arm to it. “The only bar in driving distance, mind you. Each time, I order whiskey. Each time I get some damned kids drink. The last time I got a soda. Now I have to have your permission to drink whiskey in there? When the hell did you decide to ostracize me from this town?”
He blinked down at her. “When did I decide to do what?”
Cooper decided he was in shock. He hadn’t wanted her ostracized, just protected. Nothing more.
“I walk into that bar and no one asks me to dance,” she informed him frostily. “If any one seems to be coming close to me, your bouncers waylay them and suddenly no one is speaking. And now your bartender won’t serve me whiskey?”
She sniffed. Ah hell. She couldn’t cry on him here. Not in the damned parking lot.
Cooper rubbed the back of his neck as he stared down at her furious little face. She had guts, he had to give her that.
“That’s not what it is.” He finally grimaced.
Her arms crossed over her breasts, her hip cocked. Shit. He was going to end up fucking her on the hood of a car if she kept this shit up.
“Then what, Mr. Cooper, is your problem? I’m over twenty one. I don’t believe I’m a total hag, but last I heard, even ugly women were allowed to drink whiskey.”
“That’s not it.” He hardened his voice. Hell if he wanted to explain this here.
“I just wanted to dance,” she whispered, the moonlight striking her eyes, making them deeper, darker. Damn, he wanted to fuck her. “Have a drink. I just wanted to be a woman, Mr. Cooper. I’m sorry if I inconvenienced you.”
She jerked her keys from her jeans pocket and turned to stalk to her car as though it were over. Son of bitch. He should let it go. He was fucking stupid. Insane.
He caught up her, slamming his hands against the hood of the car as she reach the door, pinning her in, watching her start, feeling her sharp intake of breath as he leaned in close to her.
“This isn’t a nice place,” he told her softly. “This bar. The men that come here only want a fuck, Sair. They’re not all nice, and they’re sure as hell not here to share a drink and a dance and go quietly home.”
He could smell the scent of her now. A little spicy, a little sweet. Whatever perfume she was wearing was going to kill him.
“My bouncers have orders. The men in that bar know me, they know what you don’t. I’m a mean fucker, baby. And when I put out the order that they use extreme caution around you, they know what the hell it means.”
“Why would you do that?” Breathless. A little excited maybe. He didn’t feel any fear and that was too damned bad. She should fear him more than she did anyone in that bar.
He let himself lean closer, let his nose bury in the soft fragrant silk of her hair. “Because I want to fuck you Miss Sair,” he growled. “I want to fuck you so deep and so hard that neither of us can move for hours later. And I can’t have you. So I’ll be damned if I’m going to watch one of those sorry bastards in there taste what I know they’d never appreciate. Go home. Find a nice young man that wants forever and babies, and count yourself lucky that the devil was in a good mood tonight.”
A good mood? He was so damned hard, so horny his cock was like titanium. He could drive spikes into railroad ties with it. And it was pressed against Sair’s lower back, the only thing separating it from her flesh was their clothes.
Clothes he wanted out of the way.
“Was he?” There was something in her voice that had the hairs standing on the back of his neck. “I don’t think it was his good mood.” She pulled the door open as he shifted back. “Trust me Mr. Cooper. There’s no such thing where the devil is concerned.”
He stood back, watched her start the car and drive away. And he couldn’t forget the little bit lost, little bit lonely look in her quiet little face. As though she had faced demons, and realized they were stronger than she had ever imagined.
“Fuck!” He propped his hands on his hips, stared after the car and knew. Hell he could feel it in his gut. He knew Sair was going to rock him clear to the soles of his feet.
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