“I’ve done far worse than what I went to prison for. She has no idea how bad this can get.”
The third book in the exhilarating and oh-so sexy Devil’s Night erotic suspense series is out now, and I have a little sneak peek for you from this crazy amazing story. This has been one of the most exciting sagas I have ever read, because with each new book, Penelope Douglas has managed to push the envelope further and further, keeping us on our toes start to finish. Every time I think to myself, “Surely, she won’t go there…”, ohhhh, she does! And it’s glorious.
I put my hands on his waist, but his body shot up and then came down hard, sparking the motor to life, and I didn’t need him to tell me what to do. I wrapped my arms around him, and put my head down behind his back, but I was nervous as hell. I’d never ridden on a motorcycle before.
“Don’t let go,” he ordered me.
Yeah, like, duh.
I tucked my feet up on the footrests and squeezed him tight as we shot off, kicking up gears and picking up pace.
I whimpered, but I didn’t think he heard it.
This was faster than the car. Or maybe it was because I could feel the wind.
He veered left, turning around the square, and the bike leaned so far, I thought we’d tip over.
“Can you slow down a little bit?” I yelled. “Please?”
But once we rounded the corner, he sped off, shooting to warp speed, and I yelped, locking my arms around his body and squeezing him between my thighs.
“I don’t feel…” I laughed for good measure, “Like really secure. Slow down!”
But he didn’t. He veered right, then left, then right again, the weight of our bodies feeling like too much as we tipped from side to side.
There was a dip, my stomach vaulted up and down, and we shot up a steep hill, and I gasped, holding him tighter.
We raced over the top of the hill, leaving the ground and picking up air as we flew over the hump and to the ground again. My heart leapt into my throat, and I felt like I was on a ride I couldn’t control and didn’t have time to think, and even if I could, I couldn’t stop what was happening. My body rushed with heat and energy, terror swelled in my throat, and I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to laugh, puke, or scream.
He sped around a bend, we leaned, and I could almost feel the ground an inch under my leg. I couldn’t stop myself. “I’m gonna fall!” I cried out. “Stop, please!”
And he did. He slowed and halted, and as if by magic, everything was quiet again.
I didn’t let him go.
“This is black,” he said. “Fear, falling, release. Excitement, risk, danger.”
I sat there, hugging him and trying to figure out if I liked it or not. It scared me just like he did when he broke into the house last week. I hated that, but… I didn’t really hate it anymore. Probably because I wasn’t as scared of him anymore. It was fear in a controlled environment. The motorcycle wasn’t.
Or maybe I just needed to try it again.
“I won’t let you go ag—” He stopped and evened out his voice. “I won’t let you go,” he said. “Hold on.”
I inhaled a shaky breath and readied myself for another go. And when the bike shot off again, I lifted my head, making myself not hide from it.
He won’t let me go. He won’t let me go.
The wind cut my face, and I closed my eyes to keep them from watering. After a moment, I found my body molded to his and moved with it as he turned and leaned, sped and broke, and it was like we were one rider.
When he leaned, and I thought we were going to fall, I squeezed my eyes shut and stopped breathing, letting him handle the bike and me and carrying us around in one piece.
When it happened again, I eased my muscles a little more, trusting him and letting him do it. I tipped my head back, feeling the wind and my body move with his, no longer needing to squeeze him so tightly.
I wanted to go all night now, because for the first time in forever, I was seeing things again. And just because I’d lost my sight didn’t mean that I needed to fear getting lost.
Just maybe, it was exactly what I’d been dying for.
The rumble of the motor shook my tummy, and I smiled, hoping for a thousand more nights like this.
He slowed to a stop and put his feet down on the ground. “Fear, falling, release,” he said again. “Excitement, risk, danger.”
“And at any moment, death,” I mused, still with my smile toward the sky.
“Freedom,” he added.
I laid my head on his back again, and he put the stand down and took out the key.
“We’re done,” he told me, sounding a little amused when I wouldn’t let him go.
“I’m cold.” I nuzzled closer.
He chuckled under his breath, and the smell of Sticks pizza wafted through my nostrils again. “Can you show me red?” I asked.
I didn’t want the night to end.
He paused for a moment and then whispered over his shoulder. “Someday.”
“Are you still going to hurt me?”
But he paused again, his whisper barely audible. “Someday,” he said.