Two-thirds of assaults are committed by somebody the victim knows. Almost forty percent of the assaults are committed by friends or acquaintances.
Drug-facilitated sexual assault remains common. Drugs like GBL can be slipped into a strong-tasting drink and the victim may act normally, i.e., they might not look drunk or act out of it, but they won’t remember anything that happened while the drug was in their system. It’s metabolized fast and will leave body within twenty-four hours.
Rape doesn’t happen to “other” people. It happens to people in all walks of life.
Learn more at www.rainn.org.
About the Author
Shiloh Walker has been writing since she was a kid. She fell in love with vampires with the book Bunnicula and has worked her way up to the more…ah…serious works of fiction. She loves reading and writing just about every kind of romance. Once upon a time she worked as a nurse, but now she writes full-time and lives with her family in the Midwest. She writes romantic suspense and paranormal romance, and urban fantasy under the name J.C. Daniels. For more about Shiloh Walker, please visit her website www.shilohwalker.com or join her newsletter shilohwalker.fanbridge.com. Also, check her out on Facebook and Twitter.
Look for these titles by Shiloh Walker
Now Available:
Talking with the Dead
Always Yours
For the Love of Jazz
Beautiful Girl
Vicious Vixen
Playing for Keeps
My Lady
The Redeeming
No Longer Mine
A Forever Kind of Love
The Hunters
The Huntress
Hunter’s Pride
Malachi
Hunter’s Edge
Grimm’s Circle
Candy Houses
No Prince Charming
Crazed Hearts
I Thought It Was You
Tarnished Knight
Locked in Silence
Grimm Tidings
Blind Destiny
Some scars cut right to the heart.
Beautiful Scars
© 2013 Shiloh Walker
Three years after her divorce, Chaili Bennett is over her ex. Her only problem now? Of the few men she’s dated since, no one “gets” her. Not like Marc Archer—a man who’s never seen her as more than a friend.
Marc Archer needs a date for a last-minute charity event, and he needs it fast. Not that women aren’t throwing themselves at his world-famous face and body, but sometimes it’s less messy—as in less personal—to use his sister Shera’s escort service.
The last woman on earth Marc expects to see in his sister’s office is Chaili. There’s something different about her, but nothing pleases him more when Shera sets them up. That simple date quickly evolves into much more as they both discover the other fills a deep, secret need they’ve shared with no one else.
Though Chaili insists one night is all she wants, Marc isn’t walking away now. Not until he discovers what put the shadows in her eyes. And the scars on her soul.
Warning: This book involves soulful songs, soulful sex, a soulful singer and lots of heartbreak. But no worries, there’s a happy ever after.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Beautiful Scars:
He could have kept on playing, just for her. Forever. He’d forgotten how amazing it was to do this. Playing for himself was always good. Playing for his fans…yeah, he loved that.
But there was something magic about sitting there in the dark and playing for her.
It was almost like he could talk to her through the music, and even though she said nothing back, he could hear her answer just in the way she moved, the way she smiled.
And it had always been like this, he realized.
Chaili seemed to find almost the same pleasure in the music that he did.
That same little smile bowed her pretty mouth up and she swayed, one hand curled around the wine glass, the other tapping out a rhythm on her thigh.
He had an image of catching the hem of her skirt. Pushing it up. Okay…that wasn’t anything that had happened before tonight. But he had a feeling he’d be thinking hot and dirty thoughts about her for a long, long time after this. Hell, he was wondering why he hadn’t done it before.
Closing his eyes, he tried to focus back on the music, but he couldn’t block her out.
It was all there, twining through his mind. The raw, powerful vibe of the music. The song. The image of his hands on her thighs. Pushing that pretty skirt up. Catching the silken hose she wore and dragging them down, her panties…leaving her naked under that skirt. Then he’d play a little while longer. Just a little while, as he thought about her being naked under that elegant little white dress.
Get a grip, Marc. Or you’re going to lose it before you even get started…
Get started. Was he actually thinking of trying to do this…
Hell, yes.
He must have lost his mind somewhere in the time he’d seen her standing in the office of Escortè and when he’d started playing for her back at the party, but he had every intention of having a taste of her. Just once, he thought. They were friends, right? They could have a night of nice, friendly sex and then go back to being friends…
Yes, because that had worked so well before.
Stop it, man. This isn’t Lily. It won’t happen that way. And if you can’t get that through your head, you need to just take her home now, he told himself.
No. She wasn’t Lily.
And he’d be damned if he took her home just yet. Unless that was what she wanted.
Clearing his throat, he took the glass of wine from her. “Ah…are you wanting to head home or you wanna hang around a while?”
She slid him a smile as she took the glass of wine back. “Hey, you played me one song. That does not a concert make.”
Hot damn.
“‘Walking in Memphis’?”
She just smiled.
He rolled into it, watching her a little closer this time. She was looking at his hands again. Her face was flushed, although he didn’t think it was the wine. He’d had as much as she and it was just the one bottle. Couldn’t just be the wine, right?
She all but groaned as he launched into the one part that got to her, every damn time, right near the end.
His voice dropped, lower, rougher.
A shudder went through her and she grabbed the glass of wine, drank it down. They’d emptied the bottle and she wished she could blame the heat burning inside her on the wine, but it wasn’t that. It was him. Always him—
“What is it about you and that song?”
As the music faded, she jerked her head up, saw him staring at her.
She tried to shrug. It wasn’t the song, it was him. Something about the way he sang it, hell, the way he sang anything… She licked her lips and stared off into the distance, trying to figure out the right way to say something that wasn’t a lie, but didn’t leave her stripped bare.
A harsh groan reached her ears.
Startled, she looked at him, realized he was staring at her mouth.
Two seconds later, he was reaching for her.
Stunned, she couldn’t think. As his lips covered hers, she just couldn’t think.
Marc was kissing her.
Damn it.
Marc was kissing her—
Had she drank more wine than she’d thought?
“Open your mouth,” he snarled against her lips, a harsh, urgent command in his voice. “Give me your mouth.”
Dazed, she did just that, opened for him.
His arms came around her as his tongue stroked across the bottom of her lip, slowly, seductively…teasingly. Oh, hell. She was in trouble. Big, big trouble…
And she didn’t plan on doing anything to stop it, either. Not when he broke his mouth away to brush a line of stinging, hot kisses down her neck to her shoulder. Not when he stroked a hand up her thigh, the other cupping the back of her head.
Alarm, though, started to sound when he toyed with the fastening of her dress—alarm that would give way to terror if she let it.
Refusing to let that happen, she wiggled around until she was straddling his lap, her arms looped around his shoulders. Through the bodice of her dress, she felt the warmth of his breath, and when he pressed his mouth to her breastbone, she figured she needed to call a stop to this here and now. He didn’t know and she just couldn’t…
“Chaili…fuck, what have you got on under this skirt?”
He’s everything she craves. She’s everything he dreads.
A Killing Touch
© 2013 Nikki Duncan
Sensory Ops, Book 4
Journalist Lana Quinn has a way with hard-hitting news. The story she’s uncovered has potential, but she needs the help of her best friend’s FBI team. She’s been rescued by them, worked with them, and partied with them, but convincing the second in command to believe her theory—that a killer’s touch sets off a lethal allergic reaction—is a frustrating challenge.
Especially since he excites her, body and mind. He’s a danger she shouldn’t indulge.
Aidan Burgess is resistant to helping Lana, but not for the reason she thinks. She has a knack for landing herself in trouble, which means she needs protection. Protecting her means staying near her, a journalist, who like all journalists uses whatever—and whomever—it takes to get her story. It’s a case he wants to refuse.
Especially since she lights a fire in his blood. She’s a danger he can’t afford.
As Lana follows up on lead after deadly lead, learning to trust and rely on each other becomes their only lifesaving hope. If their pride doesn’t become their final pitfall.
Warning: This title contains a grudge-holding hero who gives “kiss my ass” new meaning, a heroine out to prove herself, and a danger that dares them to trust.
Enjoy the following excerpt for A Killing Touch:
“If you want my secrets, Aidan, you have only to ask.”
His temple’s pulse beat so hard his right eye throbbed. “You wouldn’t hold anything back?”
“You’ll have to decide.” The proposition in her tone had nothing to do with the case as she nodded toward the parking garage. “After dinner.”
He took her by the elbow, more for a bid at control than for anything sexual, but he felt the sexual flavor of the touch. “Where do you want to eat?”
“I could go for some seafood.”
“Fine.”
“Oysters sound good. Oysters and white wine.”
He narrowed his left eye and looked down at her. “What are you scheming at?”
“I don’t scheme.”
“And Ian’s not blind.”
“Really? I didn’t think they could correct his vision.”
“Lana.” Kieralyn’s fiancé had lost his sight as a kid. The accident had been awful, but Ian had used it to grow stronger. His dad had made sure of it.
“Not that he seems to mind being blind.”
“Lana.” A warning crept into Aidan’s voice.
“It certainly doesn’t seem to slow him down any.”
“Lana.” His warning hardened.
“And Kieralyn never complains.” She ignored him and seemed to be enjoying her little game.
He enjoyed her game too. And her sass. How much so was a prime reason he’d avoided her for the last several months. Her playful passion pushed him too close to the edge. When he crossed his patience threshold things got…hot.
He hadn’t had hot in too long.
He led her down a slight incline in the garage, where his car was halfway down the mostly empty space, backed in for a quick departure.
“Kieralyn told me about their first night together. Hers and Ian’s.”
“Stop it.” His warning vibrated his throat. He did not want to hear about Kieralyn’s sex life when his own was sadly deficient.
“Have you heard what happened when they went back to his place?” She blew a soft whistle and ran her free hand over the seam of her blouse. The muscles in the arm he held flexed. “For a blind man, he sure seems to know his way around a woman’s body.”
Aidan gritted his teeth. His dick argued his protests. “Stop now.”
“Maybe he could teach classes,” she pondered.
“A real man doesn’t need classes.”
“Eh. Everyone could use some refreshers. Especially when it’s been a few months.”
A rumble rose from Aidan’s chest. She was talking about sex like it was the most natural thing in the world. There was nothing natural about the way she got to him.
He grabbed her, fused his mouth to hers and backed her to the concrete wall in the shadow of a support column. Parting her lips with his tongue, he dove into her mouth. It was a thorough exploration that whisked him back to Valentine’s night.
His neck tingled. His dick hardened.
She arched into him, pressing tight against him even as he scraped his hands up her legs, grabbing the hem of her skirt. Eager for more, Aidan sighed as she buried her hands in his hair and deepened the kiss.
The subtle taste of chocolate lingered on her tongue. She’d indulged in her favorite sweet since lunch. The flavor aroused his taste buds. Her touch aroused his body.
“Aidan.”
“Shut the hell up.” He took her mouth again and rubbed his body against hers, lowering himself a little. He reached beneath her skirt, grabbed her ass and pulled her off her feet.
Following his lead, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. Fishing in his jacket pockets, she pulled out his keys and disarmed the car alarm. He grunted and carried her to the car. Rather than open the back door, he sat her on the trunk.
With his hands free from holding her, he cupped her breasts and trailed a flaming path of kisses over her jaw, down her neck, to the open V of her blouse.
She gasped and tugged his earlobe between her teeth. With a sigh, she sucked on the sensitive spot she knew would weaken him. Her hands returned to his hair and fisted. The slight pain of her tug awakened him more as she brought his nerve endings roaring to life.
Commanding his body as effortlessly as she always did, Lana swiped her tongue along the corded veins in his neck. When she hit the collar of his jacket, she shoved it away. She didn’t uncover much more skin, but every inch was sinful seduction.
Aidan rolled his hips, grinding his erection against her wet panties. She thrust forward, begging with her body.
A door slammed, a car alarm beeped and high heels clacked against concrete somewhere above them.
Lana’s breasts hardened beneath his hands. The change was slight, but the extra firmness proved her arousal reached deeper than her nipples. It had been the same way the other times he’d touched her.
He moaned, unable to care about the danger of exposure. Any one of the people leaving work for the day could come out and see them at any moment, but he wasn’t sure he cared. He had Lana beneath his hands and nothing was going to break the moment.
He’d never thought himself an exhibitionist, but the prospect of being caught thrilled him.
She lay back on the trunk, pulling him with her. He slid his hands down her body, his fingers tense with desire and restraint. Shifting positions, he blazed kisses up her thigh, beginning at her knee. His fingers shoved her skirt up to her waist and flipped her thong to the side.
His head buzzed.
When his mouth reached her sex, he licked away some of her wetness.
His vision blurred.
He flicked her clit with his thumb and sucked, pulling her into his mouth with a gentle scrape of teeth.
Her legs shook beneath his hands. Her body heated beneath his touch. Ecstasy shot through him, molten in his veins, with her orgasm.
She reached for his belt buckle, but he stepped back and righted her clothes. Damn their differences. He wanted Lana and was tired of denying himself. He was going to take more time with her. “We’re going to my place. It’s closer.”
She nodded once, hopped off the trunk and moved toward the passenger seat.
Her knees buckled. She grabbed the car. Aidan laughed as he grabbed her waist and kept her from falling to the ground.
“I’m fine,” she slurred. “Legs are just a little weak.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Aidan considered using his siren to get through rush hour traffic faster. The taste of Lana on his tongue, the slide of her skin beneath him, the contrast of her red lace thong against her ivory smooth skin, the lust lurking in her green eyes, the musky scent of her arousal floating from the seat beside him snapped at his tethered control.
Hoping restraint on the drive would focus him, he resisted the siren. He instead sought every shortcut he knew. The ten-minute drive was still too long.
They didn’t speak as they walked up the winding path and through the iron gate. They didn’t speak as he unlocked his front door and pushed it open for her to precede him. They didn’t speak after he closed and relocked his door.
Lana dropped her purse and turned. Three steps were all she needed to close the distance between them. She shoved his leather jacket off his shoulders. His dick jerked. Aidan backed her toward his bedroom. They undressed each other along the way, leaving a trail of discarded barriers.
When they reached his room, the only thing Lana still wore were her red heels with the delicate straps twisted around her ankles. She started to remove them. He shook his head. “Leave ’em.”
“Okay.”
“Lie down.” He jerked his head toward the king-sized bed he never bothered to make. For once the sheets would have a fun reason to be tangled. “On your stomach.”
She arched a perfectly shaped brow and pursed her plump lips. “You’re very demanding.”
“Damn straight.”
The Unwanted (A Novella of the FBI Psychics) Page 12
