In the tradition of The Protector, the author of the bestselling This Man and One Night trilogies delivers a steamy, suspenseful new standalone romance about a British alpha hero and the one woman who may be able to save him—as long as he can protect her from his dark past—and I have a sneak peek for you.
Excerpt
Where is he? I stare at the door, getting progressively more restless while I wait. He demands I be here, and then leaves me waiting? What makes him think his time is more valuable than mine? Suddenly irritated, I stand and pull my dress down, set on going to find Callum to tell him that I’m out of here, but as I turn to collect my purse from the couch, something across the room catches my eye.
And there goes my world again, turning up on its head. He’s leaning against the doorframe—big and gorgeous, and with a dimpled smile. His gray trousers have to be custom tailored for those long legs, and a navy shirt fits perfectly across his chest, his sleeves rolled up to reveal some pretty spectacular forearms.
I force my eyes up, feeling my breathing going to shit. “You’ve been there the whole time, haven’t you?” I ask, feeling a little stupid that he’s just watched me fidget and faff all over the sofa. And I actually laughed out loud. To myself. I want to curl into a ball of embarrassment and hide.
He pushes away from the doorframe and strolls over to me, his eyes dancing playfully. I swear, the closer he gets, the harder the pressure of the air seems to squeeze, pushing every thought from my mind, except for those of him. Just him. “I enjoy watching you.”
Yes, apparently. “Watching me squirm nervously all over your posh couch?” A blush colors my cheeks, and I drop my gaze to the carpet.
“Mostly I wished I wasn’t admiring the back of you, though it was still extremely enjoyable.” His finger comes up slowly and rests under my chin, lifting my head. The explosion of desire within me nearly puts me on my arse. I’ve never felt anything like it. I don’t enjoy a man’s touch. I don’t welcome it. I usually simply endure it. Yet Theo…? He smiles knowingly. “But this.” His eyes roam all over my face, eventually dropping to my parted lips. “This is a vision of perfect beauty.”
I feel my cheeks heat even more. “Thank you.” I have no idea what to say, nor where such reverent words have come from. The softness of them defies the hardness of his appearance.
“May I kiss you?”
I don’t even need to think about it. Just the fact that he’s asked eases me. “Yes.”
He drops his mouth to mine, stripping me of breath, and when he takes my hands and places them on his shoulders, pulling me in, I mold against him, surrendering to his inexorable tongue, meeting his soft circular motions, proving he is right. I won’t fight him. I’m intoxicated, being lifted to heights I’ve imagined time and again as he claims my mouth with a gentle but persistent force. He tastes out of this world, smells fresh and clean, and as I feared, I’m putty in his hands, accepting and drunk on pleasure. His lips move across mine like a well-rehearsed, slow, sensual dance. My tummy twists and knots, my mind scattering. The sheer size of him holding me in place only adds to the gratification coursing through me.
Safe. I’ve never felt so safe before, and that alone is an alien sensation that I might find hard to let go of. Add the crazy ecstasy of his talented mouth, and I’m destined to be held a slave by Theo Kane for as long as he commands it.
His kiss slows, his hand massaging the back of my head as he groans low in his throat. “I meant to save that for dessert,” he whispers, the soft tone of his words and the vibration of his mouth against mine accelerating the pulse between my shaky thighs. He pulls away and drags the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip roughly, watching. “That alone was worth the trip out here.”
I’m floored, not quite able to comprehend how I’m feeling. Utterly consumeddoesn’t seem powerful enough. “Business didn’t go as planned?” I ask dryly.
His smile is still small, but full of amusement. “Business is going exactlyas I planned.” His hand slides from the base of my neck, over my shoulder and down my arm until he finds my hand.
Goose bumps erupt over every inch of my skin as I anticipate what the night could bring, laughing lightly under my breath. “So I’m business?”
“No, Izzy, you are definitely pleasure,” he says, holding my hand and taking us through to the dining room, where a table is set for two and a waiter stands to the side, awaiting our arrival.
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