by Anne Marsh
I gently press her down on her stomach. “You’re making it damned hard to behave.”
I press against her back, giving her a taste of my weight. The move traps her wrists between us, and her fingers brush first my stomach and then my dick as she wriggles. Not a no kind of wriggle, but a yes let me get closer move.
I don’t have any fancy words. I haven’t planned for this. I don’t have roses, a Hallmark verse, or even a plan. “Stay with me? I’m a hotshot when you deserve a prince, but I’m good at my job. I’ll always be able to take care of you.”
“Idiot,” she whispers. I believe that could be interpreted as sexist, stupid guy who thinks I’ll be his Suzy Homemaker. She doesn’t get it. I just want her to be Sarah Jo—but with me.
“You might want to be careful,” I whisper, “passing out insults when you’re the one with your hands tied behind your back.”
I brush my mouth against her neck, giving her a series of little kisses. My dick is doing an excellent imitation of an iron bar, but he’ll have to wait. I’m just hoping it’s not forever.
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” she says slowly.
“True,” I agree, and kiss her ear. She makes that husky, moaning gasp I love so much. “But will you let me?”
Sarah Jo being Sarah Jo, she promptly counters. She should have been a lawyer instead of a camp cook. “You going to let me take care of you?”
I think about that for a moment, while I kiss my way down her neck again.
“Sure,” I say finally, nipping lightly at her shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I want that? That’s what partners do, Sarah Jo. They look out for each other. It’s not a question of you can’t. It’s about I want to.”
Convince her.
“You know what a hot zone is?” I trace my fingers along her neck and do a little more kissing while I wait for her answer. When she shakes her head, I explain. “When a fire really gets going, you can only get so close before someone gets burned. We keep the firefighters out of that zone so they all stay safe.”
“Are you saying you want to cool things down?”
“No, honey. I’m saying I want to stand between you and the flames. Let go of your control, just for me. Let me do this for you.”
“Let go,” she repeats cautiously. Her fingers flex between us, and it’s my turn to bite back a groan as her fingertips swipe over my dick. She could be clueless about what she’s touching. Knowing my Sarah Jo, however, it’s probably part of a devious master plan. That teasing brush of her, just a light caress against my jeans, makes me hard. Hungry. I want this woman something fierce, but I also want more than one more night of hot sex. I want all of Sarah Jo.
“Let me show you,” I suggest. “Let me take charge tonight.”
Sarah Jo
Pick is a big, sexy, stubborn bastard. I flex my wrists, but the plastic ties have even less give than the man wrapped around me. He wants something from me. He wants love. He wants to love me and be loved in return. It’s a sweet, sweet idea, this possibility of Pick caring for me like that. He’d make one hell of a partner.
If I’m honest, it would be easy to love him back.
It would also be scary as hell. I don’t like being tied up or tied down. I definitely don’t like not being in control. Loving this man would be like putting zip-ties on my heart, and it would be so easy for him to hurt me.
“Let’s try this, honey.” I don’t miss the rough need in his voice. This apparently being sex while I’m tied up. I’ve never done kink before because it’s never been my thing. I wriggle, trying to find some room to think that’s not full of sexy hotshot, but he’s not letting me put any space between us. Evidently, he’s serious about this whole opening up and trusting thing.
One quick, hard tug of his hands, and my shorts and panties fly down my legs. He steps away from the bed for a moment, and then the rustle of clothing hitting the floor is followed by the dip of the mattress as he climbs right back beside me. That handful of seconds is enough for me to decide that I don’t like waiting for him to decide what comes next; this is definitely not my kind of game.
When I try to roll over, however, a firm hand at the small of my back holds me in place.
“Stay put,” he growls. “Right where you are.”
Should I? Can I? I haven’t been given the rulebook for this game, but it doesn’t seem to matter. His hands arrange me gently, on my knees, facedown. Kinky sex it is.
Kinky sex with Pick, I remind myself.
“Yes,” I say out loud. Yes to everything, yes to Pick.
He groans. “You know how pretty you look?”
I look exposed. I’m pretty darn sure of that. It’s not enough for him, though. He parts my thighs, one big hand on each, gently pressing me further open. All the way, no holding back. Just me, him, the bed, and way too many emotions.
He touches me. No warning, just one thick finger sliding through my folds from bottom to top. All the way up my soaked slit until he finds my clit and pinches lightly.
I moan. Oh, God.
“You got something you want to say to me?”
“More?”
He repeats the caress, drawing his fingers through my slickness again. “That, too.”
“Untie me? I want to get my arms around you,” I admit. “Maybe we can take turns having kinky sex tomorrow and just go for the vanilla, face-to-face stuff tonight?”
He swipes his pants from the floor, fishing for his utility knife. “Don’t move.”
I lie there, blinking a little because I’m finally right where I want to be. I don’t want to leave. A quick slice of the blade, and my wrists pop apart. I roll, taking in the intent look on his face. His big hands rub at the red marks from the ties.
“Shit.” He frowns. “I should have cut you free sooner.”
“It’s all right.” And it is. I sort of want to cry and to yell and to climb all over that big body of his and make him feel the pleasure, too. Pick is my hot zone and my safety zone, and I’m more than ready to spend fire season—and forever—in his arms. We’ll take turns being in control—or letting go. It’s going to be okay, even if I don’t get it right the first time. All I have to is practice—and trust Pick.
And I do. I trust him with every tied up, too scared, not quite sure enough inch of me, starting with me head and ending with my heart. I love him, and he loves me.
“I’m okay,” I repeat.
He frames my face with his hands and kisses me, a hot, sweet kiss that makes me heat up. “In that case—”
“Yeah,” I say, laughing. “You’ve got something to finish.”
“One thing first.” His face, watching mine, is suddenly serious. “I don’t want to be finished here. I just want you to know that. Stay or go, that’s your call, but you should know that I’ll be here waiting for you. You don’t need to say anything, but I needed you to hear that.”
“You don’t mind? If I’m not in the mood for talking?”
“Honey”—he eases his hand along my shoulder—“this isn’t about what I want. You say what you need to say. Whatever you’ve got, you give it to me.”
“That’s it?”
He slides his fingers into the tangled hair at the back of my neck, urging me forward for another kiss. It’s a fabulous idea—one of the best he’s had all night.
“Probably not,” he admits. “We’re going to fight. Kiss and make up.”
I walk my fingers up his chest. “Maybe it’s time for that kissing part.”
“Uh-huh.” I can feel the low rumble of his laughter beneath my cheek. “I could do that.”
“I love you.” I say the words quietly, but I know he hears me.
“Say you’ll stay the summer. The fall. I’ve got four seasons, and every one of them is for you.”
“I could do that.” I pull his head toward mine, wanting his kiss. “You still looking for that hot zone, hotshot?”
He smiles slowly. “Could be.”
“Then sign me up. I’m all yo
urs.”
THE BIG ONE!
Humor and heat collide in this sizzling audio-first Mister Hotshot romance by New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Anne Marsh!
Being a firefighter means I work hard and can go all night. But hey, I've got plenty of fires to put out in my downtime, too. Fortunately I've got just the tool to do it. Size matters, ladies. I've got a big one...and I would have been happy to show you before a sassy, sexy brunette crash-landed in my life.
Lola is quirky; she's talented; she's unbelievably gorgeous; and she's getting over the world's worst breakup. I've got two words for you: off limits.
So even if her smoking-hot body drives me nuts, I'll keep my tool to myself. We're friends - not lovers. I've got her back, even if what I really want to have is her front. Her mouth. Every delicious, curvy inch of her.
And then one hot, dirty night in the bed of my truck, she makes it clear that she's on fire for me. After stoking the flames and achieving a blowup of nuclear proportions, I know I'm in big trouble. Once isn't enough. Now my need for her is a four-alarm blaze...and I'm beginning to think I don't ever want it to burn out.
An Audible Original!
More by Anne Marsh
The Hunt
THE HUNT: COMPLETE EDITION
Blue Moon Brides
TEMPTED BY THE PACK
PLEASURED BY THE PACK
CLAIMED BY THE PACK
TAKEN BY THE PACK
CAPTURED BY THE PACK
BLUE MOON BRIDES BOXED SET: BOOKS 1-3
BLUE MOON BRIDES BOXED SET: BOOKS 1-5
RECAPTURED BY THE PACK
WOLF’S DESIRE
WOLF’S REDEMPTION
WOLF’S HEART
BLUE MOON BRIDES BOXED SET: LUC, CRUZ, AND GIANNA
The Fallen
BOND WITH ME
HIS DARK BOND
SAVAGE BOND
Warriors Unleashed
VIKING’S ORDERS
AT THE VIKING’S COMMAND
BOUND BY THE VIKING
VIKING'S GIFT
Smoke Jumpers
BURNING UP
SLOW BURN
When SEALs Come Home
BURNS SO BAD
SMOKING HOT
SWEET BURN
YOURS FOR CHRISTMAS
HEATED
ONE HOT SEAL
HER FIREFIGHTER SEAL
HER CHRISTMAS SEAL
WHEN SEALS COME HOME: BOXED SET 1
WHEN SEALS COME HOME: BOXED SET 2
Billionaires
XANDER
Caribbean Nights
PLAYER
BABY DADDY
THE BOSS
HEARTBREAKER
The Hotshots
FIRED UP
SEALs of Discovery Island
WICKED SEXY
WICKED NIGHTS
WICKED SECRETS
BEFORE HE WAS WICKED (Free prequel!)
SEALs of Fantasy Island
TEASING HER SEAL
PLEASING HER SEAL
DARING HER SEAL
About the Author
After ten years of graduate school and too many degrees, Anne Marsh escaped to become a technical writer. When not planted firmly in front of the laptop translating Engineer into English, Anne enjoys gardening, running (even if it’s just to the 7-11 for slurpees), and reading books curled up with her kids. The best part of writing romance, however, is finally being able to answer the question: “So… what do you do with a PhD in Slavic Languages and Literatures?” She lives in Northern California with her husband, two kids and four cats.
Website | Newsletter | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
Copyright © 2017 Anne Marsh
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, with the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
Cover design by Crocodesign
Formatting and ebook design by Geek Girl Formatting.
Contents
Hung
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
The Big One!
More by Anne
About the Author
