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Married to the enemy…

When Keira O’Malley was a child, she used to picture her perfect wedding. The flowers. The dress. Her husband. But nothing could have prepared her for saying “I do” to Dmitri Romanov-cold, domineering, and always one step ahead of everyone else in the ever-shifting power plays of New York City. She agreed to his bargain to secure peace for her family, and she may want the bastard more than she’d ever admit, but she’ll be damned if she’ll make this marriage easy for him.

Dmitri knows better than to underestimate Keira for one second. Molten desire smolders between them, a dangerous addiction neither can resist. But his enemies are already on the move, and he needs every ounce of his legendary focus and control to keep them alive. Keira could just be his secret weapon-if she doesn’t bring him to his knees first.


EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT: The Bastard’s Bargain

Katee Robert

BOOK SERIES: 

The final instalment in Katee Robert’s sizzling O’Malleys family series—hailed as “The Godfather meets Romeo & Juliet”—is available now, and I have an excerpt for you.

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Excerpt

The only answer her gave her was his mouth brushing hers. A request rather than a command. Another surprise. His kissed her bottom lip and then her top lip, a slow exploration that made her head spin. Before she could relax into the feeling, his tongue was there, requesting entrance. She opened for him immediately. His touch drove away the bad thoughts, and she’d take whatever he’d give her.

Last time he’d kissed her, he’d kissed her like he owned her. This time, he kissed her like he wanted to memorize her. Slow. Agonizingly, deliciously slow.

Fuck that.

Keira shoved his shoulders, toppling him onto his back. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he’d allowed the move—if Dmitri wanted to pin her in place, he could do it easily enough. She ended up straddling him and, holy fuck, what a place to be.

The darkness of the room licked at him, only furthering the impression of a fallen angel. No, not an angel. This man was subservient to no one. He was at home here in the shadows, sprawled on this sinfully massive bed like some dark god.

It was right about then that she realized he was naked. Keira went still, trying to tamp down the urge to rush for a light switch. He’s my husband, right? That means I’ll see this again…and again…and again. The faint light coming in from the window didn’t give her nearly enough to work with, so she ran her hands down his chest. He was cut in the way boxers were, though she hadn’t noticed it before because his clothes fit him so damn well. But there was some serious muscle here.

She traced his pecs and then lightly raked her nails over his abs. “Fuck, Russian, how many sit-ups do you a do a week?”

His dark chuckle went straight through her. “Perhaps one of these days, I’ll show you.”

She took half a second to picture him working out in only a pair of shorts, sweat slicking these same muscles as he pushed his body…Keira shivered. “Not until we’re fucking.” She wouldn’t be able to resist that. She knew herself well enough to know that. The fact that she’d resisted at all was a goddamn miracle.

Here. Now. They were both naked and in his bed.

And he’d taken sex off the table.

She didn’t know how to tempt or tease or seduce. Keira had never bothered with that bullshit. If she wanted to fuck someone, she fucked them. The only person who’d ever turned her down was the one she currently had naked between her thighs. She leaned forward and braced herself on one hand so she could use the other to stroke his cock. It was the first time she’d touched him like that, and she took her time exploring him. Long and wide and fucking perfect. Because of course. It would be too much to ask the universe to give this man a single physical imperfection.

His body went tense as she stroked him again, and she enjoyed the moment of total control. It didn’t matter that Dmitri could flip her and do whatever he damn well pleased and she’d likely love every second of it. What mattered was that she was on top, if only for a limited time. “I want to ride you, Romanov.”

He spit out something in Russian, which was enough to make her vow to learn the language if it was the last thing she did. She wanted to know what he was saying to her when his control slipped.

“Keira. Moya koroleva.” He grabbed her wrist, but he didn’t remove her hand from his cock. “Sex is not on the table.”

“Who said anything about sex?” She ran the heel of her hand up his cock. “Now, lie back and think of Mother Russia.”

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(standalone stories with interconnected characters)

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