Then his hands were pushing my thighs apart. The summer breeze felt impossibly cold against my exposed cunt, bare and naked. His lips were a shock, hot and agile and knowing. And his tongue—God, his tongue—slick and hot. I rocked my hips up to meet him, but he pressed me back down, pressed my hips into the wood.
“Stay, baby,” he murmured against my clit. “Stay still for me.”
I tried. I tried so hard to do what he asked of me. It was such a small request, but I struggled with it, trembled with the effort it took to keep my body flat on the porch steps. The step cut into my back, but that wasn’t where I really hurt. Lower, lower. I wanted to reach for him, to beg for him, when all he wanted me to do was stay.
All my life I had been able to do this. Lie there and take it. But now it was my greatest challenge, almost painful, as my clit throbbed and my skin tingled all over.
“Please,” I mumbled. “Please, please.”
He didn’t answer. He just wrapped his large hands around my thighs to hold me down—trapping me, exactly as I’d asked him to—and lashed my clit with his tongue. He sucked at my cunt with his mouth and scraped along the edge with his teeth. He made me cry and shudder. He made me scream and beg.
It was too harsh and rough and painful—until he reached up and took my hand. Then I could squeeze him just as hard as I needed. Then I wasn’t alone.
A warm hand holding mine.
Green grass spongy between my toes.
Dappled sunlight on my face.
And the hot warmth of his tongue as he pushed me into climax again and again. He ran his face over my thighs, against my belly, spreading my arousal everywhere, as if he couldn’t touch enough of me. Every time I came, his low groan of male satisfaction rent the air.
At one time I didn’t even know what happiness felt like. But I was pretty sure it couldn’t be better than this.
The End
Thank you!
Thank you for reading Trust in Me! I hope you enjoyed Tyler and Mia’s story.
• Carlos is my most irredeemable hero. Meet the woman who will bring him to his knees in Don’t Let Go.
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Don’t Let Go
“Beautiful. Poignant. Complex. Haunting.”
—Leila DeSint, author of the London Brown series
Junior FBI Agent Samantha Holmes is assigned the case of a lifetime, along with an enigmatic new partner, Ian Hennessy. She’s determined to prove herself to the bureau legend, but late nights and stolen moments lead to more than respect. They lead to desire, and soon she’s fallen for the one man forbidden.
Together they hunt for the FBI’s most wanted man. A criminal. A psychopath. But when they get close, Samantha may end up prey instead. She must face her dark past to stay alive—and to protect the man she loves.
“The chemistry between these two burns hot. The heat they create is utterly, darkly seductive. Combined with the emotions behind it, watching these two souls, broken beyond repair, find an unusual solace in each other… enthralling. Erotic. Breathtaking.”
—Romantic Book Affairs
Excerpt from Don’t Let Go
Hennessy cut a striking form against the window’s glow, but the silver streaking his honey-brown hair at his temples proved he was older than me. Much older, in both years and experience. Despite the obvious differences between my new partner and me, it felt good to be part of the club. A sense of contentment and happiness swelled inside me. However it had come about, this gig would lift me out of the professional gutter in a way that coffee runs and paper filing had never done.
The door closed me in with an audible click. My walk across the carpet, however, didn’t make a sound. Years of rigorous training, both inside the academy and out, had left me as agile as any practiced field agent. Still, I felt sure he tracked my every movement, effortlessly, with the kind of awareness born of experience. How long had he been an agent? Ten years, twenty? Criminals had shot at him, tried to blow him up, paid money to assassinate him. Any agent with a resume like his would have been a target. His survival gave testament to his skill.
Eyes the color of sheet metal stared at the window, unseeing. Small imperfections marred a handsome face: a slight curve of his nose where it had broken, a small scar on his chin. A line of white scar tissue split a brown eyebrow. He’d done more than evade these criminals; he’d fought them.
“You should’ve taken him up on his offer,” he said quietly.
My boss, he meant. Had he heard the low conversation we’d exchanged? Or did he just deduce what was being said? If you want out, tell me now.
“I’m not interested in his offer. I want this case.”
“You have no idea what this case is even about, rookie.”
Questions sat on the tip of my tongue. So what’s the case about, then? When can we get started? But only one came out.
“What happened to the last guy?”
That finally got his full attention. He looked at me, and I felt the gaze of his gunmetal eyes like a blow. It stole my breath and rendered me speechless. He looked me up and down. His mouth set in a flat line, unimpressed by my gender, my youth, or maybe the pink blouse I wore. Whatever he saw, it made him answer.
“He died. The last time I went after Carlos Laguardia, my partner died. A punk kid who thought he could bring down a monster.”
His words and his tone challenged me. Run away, they said. But I heard the desolation beneath the warning. Whatever family or friends the punk kid might have had, this man had mourned him. Hennessy might be a ruthless agent, but he cared about his partners.
I extended my hand. “Then let’s get the bastard responsible.”
His eyes widened minutely, the faintest indication I’d surprised him before the cynical mask snapped back into place. He studied me, gauging my sincerity, my intelligence, or whatever resemblance I might have borne to the punk kid. I could see him judging my pearl earrings and the unfortunately youthful button nose on my face and finding me lacking. Most guys assumed I couldn’t fight. I had my second Dan in Tae Kwon Do, and I was a better shot than the rest of my graduating class. I was freaking competent, and if this guy was going to question it, if he was going to be prejudiced and—
He nodded. Curtly. Decisively. His approval washed over me, warming me in a way that even Brody’s hadn’t. This guy was the real deal, the Lone Ranger of the country’s gangland, and I’d gladly be his trusty sidekick.
He accepted my hand and awareness rose from where his skin heated mine. Awareness that he was a man, that he was a handsome one. I sensed an answering ripple go through him, as if he’d just registered me as a woman. Attraction, plain and simple. A chemical reaction, really.
I pushed it aside.
Besides that, a different kind of alertness had begun to move through me, one that had nothing to do with the lean muscled body in front of me. This assignment was real. The biggest case to come through our branch in the time I’d been here, and I’d just been assigned as a principal agent. Holy shit. I carefully schooled my expression, forcing back the giddiness. I didn’t even care about whatever ulterior motives they might have had.
For surely there had been ulterior motives. A hundred other agents were more qualified for the role on this floor alone. It didn’t matter. If I contributed one tiny thing that led to us bringing down Laguardia, I’d make a name for myself. No more schlepping coffee or making copies. But my desire ran even deeper than that. Even darker. The sinister excitement I’d felt when I’d held my father’s life in my hands, when I’d turned him in—I felt it now too. It hummed through me, sleek and d
ark in my veins.
“What are we going to do first?” I asked Hennessey, my voice coming out breathless. I hoped he didn’t notice the flush on my cheeks or my rapid pulse of excitement. The way his gaze flicked to the base of my neck and then away said my hope was in vain.
“First, you’re going to study the case files. I’m already familiar, so I’ll go ahead and do the questioning.”
“Questioning?”
“An inmate. They’re holding him down at the courthouse for his arraignment, and I need to speak with him.”
A shiny laminate “Visitor” badge was clipped to his lapel. Despite his impressive credentials and senior rank, he was an outsider in this office. As a rookie, so was I.
“We,” I corrected.
“Pardon?”
“We need to speak with him. I’ve already read the case files. I do know what this case is about. And I’m coming with you.”
He radiated suspicion, as if he’d never heard of initiative and had never seen anyone be assertive. “Why would you read case files if you didn’t know you’d get assigned here?”
“Because I ran out of money to buy more detective novels. Why do you think?” I blew out a breath, shocked at myself. What the hell? Being sarcastic wasn’t the way to make friends. Then again, there was little chance of Hennessey being my friend. He didn’t want me as a partner. He barely registered my existence.
Though, he registered me now. His eyes narrowed, his lips firmed. He wasn’t happy, but I couldn’t be sorry. His gray eyes took my measure, as more than an annoying new girl, as more than a woman—as an equal. “So you feel confident with the case? With Laguardia?”
“Yes, sir.”
“State his full name.”
“Carlos Frederico Laguardia.” I continued to recite the next ten most commonly used aliases. We had no idea what his real birth name had been. Even his identity was a fabrication, a fraud like the disguises and the pretend trips.
If I’d expected Hennessey to be impressed with my recitation, I’d have been disappointed. He frowned. “Where was he last seen?”
“Switzerland.” I paused, wondering how much I should say. How much to reveal to a partner who didn’t yet trust me. “At least, that’s what the official reports say. But it wasn’t him.”
One brow rose. “Explain.”
His stern command sent a shiver down my spine. That autocratic tone annoyed me, but I couldn’t deny he’d earned the right to use it. He had so much more experience, more skills than I. Where did I get off telling him he was wrong? Still, I’d pulled the lever to my own trap door by opening my mouth. The only thing left to do was fall through it.
I thought back to the world map pinned on the wall, the pins in all the reliable sightings, the yarn connecting them loose and drooping to the floor like streamers in a party long over.
“He doesn’t like the cold,” I finally said.
The silence grew thick and potent. “He doesn’t like the cold?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “He avoids it. His headquarters have always been in warm locations. Mexico. South America. The one in North Africa.”
“The Algerian compound was never confirmed. And Mexico… South America… It didn’t occur to you that those are the major centers of drug and weapons trafficking?” He looked incredulous.
“And Russia,” I said quietly. My chest felt tight. I wished I’d never started this. “Russia is another major center of drug and weapon trafficking, but he never goes there.” Because it’s cold.
He stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. And maybe I had. Maybe that had happened years ago and neither the court-appointed psychiatrist nor the FBI staff who’d cleared me for duty had ever noticed.
Hennessey barked a laugh. “Jesus. You know, the Russians prefer human trafficking these days, having more people than drugs or weapons. And maybe Laguardia just doesn’t like the Gulag. But I take your point.” He laughed again, as if in disbelief. “It’s a fair theory, and a new one, I’ll give you that much.”
The knot loosened inside me, letting me breathe again. He might suspect I was crazy, but at least he knew I paid attention. I could be an asset to him.
A new, grudging respect lightened his eyes, turning them silver. “Okay, rookie, you can come. But I’m driving.”
I didn’t bother hiding my smile. I didn’t care who drove, and besides, that was to be expected. I doubted this man ever gave up much control. I bet his commands extended into the bedroom. The thought filled me with unexpected, unwelcome heat.
Want to read more? Don’t Let Go is available now.
Other Books by Skye Warren
Wanderlust
On the Way Home
Hear Me
Prisoner
Dark Nights Series
Keep Me Safe (prequel)
Trust in Me
Don’t Let Go
The Beauty Series
Beauty Touched the Beast
Beneath the Beauty
Broken Beauty
Beauty Becomes You
The Beauty Series Compilation
Standalone Erotic Romance
His for Christmas
Take the Heat: A Criminal Romance Anthology
Sweetest Mistress
Below the Belt
Dystopia Series
Leashed
Caged
About the Author
Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of dark romance. Her books are raw, sexual and perversely romantic.
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www.skyewarren.com
Marco’s Redemption
New York Times Bestselling Author
Lynda Chance
Copyright © 2012 by Lynda Chance
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
For all the wonderful readers who requested a man in a suit; I hope y’all enjoy Marco.
And finally, last but never, ever least, to Suzanne and Clayton,
Thank y’all for the wonderful help you’ve given me with everything, but most importantly, with this book. I knew that having a couple of little techno-geeks would come in handy one day.
And for Clayton, now and always.
Chapter One
Marco Donati threw on the brakes in rush hour traffic and heard the squeal of tires and the crunch of metal against metal at the same exact moment he felt the vicious jerk from behind. He expelled a breath as he negotiated a quick turn onto the shoulder of the freeway and waited for the car that had rear-ended him to do the same.
Hissing a curse for the delay and pain in the ass this was going to cause him, he glanced in the rearview mirror to see the small car pull onto the shoulder and come to a stop.
He didn’t think the impact had been substantial enough to cause any bodily injury to the other driver, but he slid out of his car to make sure anyway.
As he walked to the back of his vehicle, he briefly inspected the mangled fender of his custom-ordered Audi A-8 that had, until minutes ago, been pristine. A streak of fluorescent green paint on the previously gleaming black enamel was a further insult to the sleek lines of his car.
As Marco approached the driver’s side of the ancient green compact, he saw that it held only one person, a young female, and with an exaggerated hand g
esture, he motioned for the window to be lowered.
The girl inside rolled the window down and Marco saw a face already white from shock. He couldn’t see her eyes—they were covered in huge, dark sunglasses that almost completely dominated her small face.
He so didn’t have time for this shit right now. “You all right?” he asked. The girl seemed shaky, but not in any pain that he could see.
“Yes. You didn’t hurt me.”
“I didn’t hurt you? You slammed me from the rear,” he interjected harshly.
“You stopped so fast!”
“Are you serious? We’re on a freeway in rush hour traffic. Get real. Hand over your insurance information and driver’s license and we’ll get this over with.”
She continued to watch him while her lower lip trembled and Marco thought she looked extremely young, although he couldn’t pinpoint any one thing about her that gave him that idea. She could have been a teenager—or a woman full grown. There wasn’t really any way for him to know with those huge sunglasses covering her eyes. He shifted his weight from one foot to the next as unease spread through him. There was absolutely no reason he should be feeling any guilt about this. There hadn’t been a damn thing he could do to stop the collision.
“I realize that technically it was my fault. But I—” She stopped speaking when a eighteen-wheeler zoomed by. Her voice lacked strength as her eyes remained glued to the traffic speeding past and she made no move to give him the information he had requested.
Feeling his muscles tighten and his jaw clench, he made a swift decision, refusing to be moved by a pretty face, and slipped his phone from his pocket and began to punch in numbers.
“Wait.” The word was a plea from the heart and he made the foolish mistake of pausing and looking into her face once again.
