Kilty Pleasure

by Shelli Stevens

  It could’ve been worse, Kenzie mused. It could’ve been one of the sailors who’d tried to pick Sarah up all night. But Sarah was so hopelessly in love with Ian, that even at her own bachelorette party she refused to even look at another man. No matter how many offered to buy her a drink or asked her to dance.

  So the mic stand was getting all of Sarah’s drunken love right now.

  Kenzie took another pic with her iPhone and emailed it to Sarah. That would be a fun little surprise in her inbox.

  She exchanged a look with Hailey, who was sitting at the bar—completely sober—and talking to Delonna. Hailey grimaced and gestured to the stage, as if asking if they should intervene.

  Kenzie gave her the thumbs-up and shook her head. Hailey laughed and went back to her discussion.

  Things were going well for Hailey as well, and Kenzie couldn’t be happier for her.

  She and Colin had begun making plans to move Hailey into his house when her lease was up on her rental. And she’d interviewed and gotten a position as a nurse at Whidbey General.

  Kenzie also suspected the two were talking marriage, though neither had confirmed that rumor.

  Overall, they were as sickeningly in love as, well, Sarah and Ian.

  Which left her, for the most part, the odd man out lately. Ah well, who needed that shite anyway?

  “So she’s the bride-to-be?”

  Turning at the slightly familiar, Southern-accented voice, Kenzie narrowed her eyes and glanced over the tall, muscled guy with the closely shaved head.

  Navy guy.

  What little hair was left on his scalp was almost a dark blonde, bordering on brown. His eyes were blue, lacking the sheen of intoxication that so many of the people in the pub had. He looked older than most of the guys here tonight, maybe mid-thirties.

  Those deep-blue eyes weren’t looking at Sarah, but at Kenzie right now.

  “Aye, she’s the bride-to-be.”

  “When’s the big day?”

  “Sunday.” She pulled her gaze from him. He looked familiar. She racked her brain, trying to put it together.

  “Are you in the wedding, Kenzie?”

  “I’m the maid of honor.”

  He knew her name, which meant they’d probably met. No wonder he looked familiar.

  Finally it clicked. He’d been in here about a month ago, when Hailey had first showed up at the bar. He’d been with a group of rowdy sailors and had apologized for his friends’ behavior. And then he’d flirted with her. Given her quite a nice tip actually.

  “Can I buy you a drink?”

  She arched a brow at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be flirting with the bachelorette?”

  “I’m more interested in flirting with the maid of honor and the most gorgeous woman in here.”

  Ah, a true flatterer. “Thank you.”

  She didn’t buy his compliment for a minute. It was a line.

  “We’re celebrating as well tonight. My buddies and I.”

  “You don’t say? And why is that?”

  He raised a beer to his mouth and took a swallow, his gaze seeming to stare blindly at the wall now.

  “We’re shipping out tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” Her smile faded. For some reason she felt a pang of disappointment that he was leaving. But then, hello, navy men. They came, they went. “Ah, well, good luck.”

  “But we’ll be back in six months.”

  He caught her hand, startling her. She fought against the familiar panic when a man touched her and she hadn’t braced for it.

  Before she could pull away, he pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles. The fear eased and an unexpected heat slid through her. She quickly pulled her hand back.

  Her pulse skipped, a little out of whack. She blinked several times, trying to get it under control. Maybe she should slow down on the beer.

  “If you’re still around and single when I return,” he murmured, leaning down to speak close to her ear. “Promise to have dinner with me?”

  “I never said I was single to begin with.”

  “You’re single. Any guy lucky enough to have you would be stupid to leave you alone at a pub.”

  Her heart did another little stumble. He really was attractive. Charming.

  “Yes, I’m single,” she finally admitted with a wry smile.

  “So about that dinner?”

  It was harmless, really. So she dredged up some of her rusty flirting skills to reply back. “If I’m single and still around, then you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Pure masculine triumph flickered in his eyes and he nodded. “I look forward to it. I should let you get back to your girls now.”

  “I appreciate that.” Feeling a little impulsive from the beers she’d had and the flirtatious atmosphere of the bachelorette party, she called out, “Hey, sailor. Stay safe.”

  “Will do.” He winked. “And the name’s Brett.”

  “Brett.” It had a sexy ring.

  “See you soon, Kenzie.”

  No, you won’t. Because you’re going to forget I exist about two days after you get on that boat.

  Tearing her gaze away from him, and vowing to forget him faster than he forgot her, she lined her phone up again and started taking more blackmail shots of her best friend.

  About the Author

  Shelli is a New York Times bestselling author who read her first romance novel when she snatched it off her mother’s bookshelf at the age of eleven. One taste and she was forever hooked. It wasn’t until many years later that she decided to pursue writing stories of her own. By then she acknowledged the voices in her head didn’t make her crazy, they made her a writer.

  Shelli currently lives with her daughter in the Pacific Northwest, where she writes various genres of romance. She’s a compulsive volunteer, and has been known to spontaneously burst into song.

  Look for these titles by Shelli Stevens

  Now Available:

  Trust and Dare

  Theirs to Capture

  Four Play

  Foreign Affair

  Savage

  Savage Hunger

  Savage Betrayal

  Savage Revenge

  Seattle Steam

  Dangerous Grounds

  Tempting Adam

  Seducing Allie

  Chances Are

  Anybody but Justin

  Luck be Delanie

  Protecting Phoebe

  Holding Out for a Hero

  Going Down

  Command and Control

  Flash Point

  The McLaughlins

  Good Girl Gone Plaid

  Print Collections

  Chances Are

  Holding Out for a Hero

  Coming Soon:

  The McLaughlins

  Loch and Key

  Highland Fling

  Taking her captive could prove his innocence…or make her a target.

  Savage Revenge

  © 2013 Shelli Stevens

  Savage, Book 3

  Agent and Alpha Nathan Larson has fled his pack, his agency and Washington State on a life-or-death mission to prove himself innocent of a savage massacre he’s pretty sure he didn’t commit.

  So far he’s covered his tracks, but it’s only a matter of time. He needs a place to hunker down under the radar, and he intends to make it happen. No matter who becomes collateral damage.

  Sage Christensen knows every shifter in this small California town, and the darkly attractive, brooding alpha attempting to flirt with her stands out like a flea on a white cat. She quickly realizes she was right to be wary when he follows her home and holds her captive.

  Despite her refusal to be a compliant victim, she can’t deny their chemistry. Or the gut instinct that maybe he really is innocent. But with the trail of dead women growing longer, Sage begins to wonder if it was a mistake to trust her safety, her body—and her heart—to a man who has no idea how deep his dark side is buried.

  Warning: This book has an Alpha male on the run, and
a quirky novelist destined to be his captive. There will be bloodshed, lovemaking, and excitement aplenty.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Savage Revenge:

  Sage had the door open, with one foot out, before he reached her and snagged her around the waist.

  “Son of a bitch,” he roared. “How in the hell did you get free?”

  He lifted her back into the house and slammed the door.

  She was apparently done being complacent, though. She squirmed, kicked and hit before he finally had to drop her to try and get a better grip.

  But it wasn’t that easy, because in an instant she had scurried away and grabbed any kind of makeshift weapon she could get her hands on.

  He ducked from the remote control that flew at his head and lunged toward her. He missed.

  “How did you get yourself untied?” he roared.

  “You seriously underestimate me.” She darted past him, throwing a small lamp at him in the process.

  It clipped his shoulder before crashing to the floor. “Clearly.”

  A growl of fury erupted past his lips as he threw himself at her full speed.

  He took her down linebacker style, rolling them both on the hardwood floors.

  “Get off me.”

  She slapped at his shoulders, trying to free herself, and he caught her wrists in one hand to get her under control.

  Her expression morphed from frustration to pain, and her sharp cry had his anger vanishing. Had he hurt her? He hadn’t realized his grasp was that tight.

  A quick scan of her body, though, and he dropped her wrists from his grasp after seeing the raw, red cuts there.

  “Jesus, woman, what the hell did you do to yourself?”

  She winced and gently cradled one wrist. “I cut them while freeing myself.”

  He leaned down and slid an arm around her waist, helping her to her feet. “You mind filling me in on how you even got free?”

  “I rolled myself off the bed and cut the rope on the metal frame. There’s a sharp corner that I’ve cut my foot on more than once while climbing into bed.”

  Smart girl. “So when I found you on the floor and scooped you back up, you were probably already halfway through your ropes?”

  “Pretty much.”

  He grunted and steered her toward the kitchen. “You’re bleeding.”

  “I’m a shifter—it’ll stop fast.”

  “Still, it wouldn’t hurt you to wash the cuts. That frame might be rusty and why risk any slowed healing?”

  “Does it matter? I have a feeling you wouldn’t mind seeing me suffer.”

  Christ. This again. “It’s not my intent to hurt you, Sage. I can’t stress that enough.”

  “Then what is your intent?”

  “I just need a place to lay low. To figure out a few things.” He turned on the sink and gently pulled her wrists under the water. “And you’re going to help me with that.”

  She winced as he added soap over her raw but already healing wrists. “Not exactly willing here.”

  Their heads were close and he was suddenly all too aware of her as a female. The wrist he held was delicate and soft, and the scent of her shampoo mixed with the citrus soap he was using to wash her wounds.

  “It would be a little weird if you were,” he finally agreed.

  Her gaze lifted to meet his. Searching. “Are you really a P.I.A. agent?”

  “Yes. And not just an agent. I’m also the commander of my unit.”

  She shook her head, her breathing not quite as steady now. Was it from the information he’d just divulged, or their proximity?

  “You sound as if you should be one of the good guys. What did you do?”

  He was a good guy. Or so he’d used to think. He shrugged, not quite ready to answer that. Not quite sure he could.

  So he changed the subject instead.

  “This could’ve been so much easier on both of us, Sage. At the bar last night I was trying to make you fall for me. Trying to gain your trust so you’d willingly take me home.”

  “I’m sorry I was so uncooperative.” Her sarcasm ran rampant. “And I don’t take men home.”

  When he glanced up at her, her gaze had slid to his mouth.

  Interesting. Maybe she was a more aware of him than she cared to admit. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and everything primal inside him responded.

  He turned off the sink and maneuvered her against it, straddling her legs with his own.

  “Well I guarantee you if I’d been the one kissing you outside instead of your pretty musician, you would’ve taken me home.”

  She swallowed hard and met his gaze once more. The amount of defiance there was outweighed by excitement.

  “For a criminal, you’re awfully full of yourself. It would take more than a kiss for me to have brought you home.”

  “Careful, Sage,” he warned softly and leaned in closer. His breath mingled with hers. “Because that almost sounds like a challenge.”

  He heard it then. The slow thud of her heart that had become a pounding thunder. She didn’t reply to his statement, and the wolf within him rose to the surface in an instant.

  Was he right? Was she as physically drawn to him right now as he was to her?

  Maybe he was going about this wrong. Maybe if he tried to seduce her mind—her heart—he’d have her cooperation. She’d stop trying to escape and break his skull in.

  Or maybe, you just want to charter the inside of her mouth with your tongue.

  Whatever it was, the primitive side of him was far too close to the surface to be denied now.

  He lowered his head and lightly touched his lips to hers—waited for her to pull away. She was so soft. Wonderfully sweet.

  She didn’t move, though her shoulders tensed. A moment later she gave a stiff shrug. “See? That did noth—”

  He didn’t let her finish that thought before he’d crushed his mouth on hers again. Not gentle this time, but with the sole intent to explore that amazing mouth deeper. To conquer and take.

  She whimpered in shock before he effortlessly pierced her compressed lips with his tongue, determined to taste the soft warmth inside.

  For a moment, she tried to push him away, her hands shoving against his bare shoulders, but as he gentled his kiss—switched his intent from conquer to seduce—she grew pliant in his arms.

  As he flicked his tongue against hers in teasing, gentle strokes, she began to answer back. The hands that had tried to push him away a moment ago now kneaded and stroked the bare skin of his shoulders.

  The control that he always prided himself on—that had been so tightly wound—began to unravel. His thoughts grew hazy, and for a moment he couldn’t be sure who was actually in control. Who was seducing who.

  He reached down and caught her ass, lifting her easily onto the edge of the sink and stepping between her thighs.

  Her legs wrapped around him and the intimate heat of her body cradled the now rock-hard flesh of his dick.

  Christ, he was losing it, but he couldn’t stop.

  The shifter inside him was near the surface and riding the rush. If the basic human male’s instincts were to eat, fight and fuck, then the shifter male’s instincts for those were twice as strong. Nathan had managed to scratch eating off the list, but the other two were long overdue. There was adrenaline running through his blood, and fighting Sage wasn’t remotely an option.

  But maybe fucking her was.

  Delving his hands into the damp curls of her hair, he tugged her head back and pulled his mouth from hers.

  He trailed slow kisses down her jawline. Exploring. Tasting. Feeling her heart beating in the pulse beneath his tongue.

  “Nate…” she whispered, sounding almost drugged, and making no move to stop him now. “Is…oh…is Nate really your name?”

  “Nate. Nathan. Larson. Sir. I get them all.” How was she still able to talk? Maybe this was a good time to try and get information out of her. “You’re a writer?”

  While waiting
for her to answer, he teased the wildly beating pulse in her neck again with is tongue.

  “Oh…yes.” She made a soft, fluttery sigh. “Romance novels.”

  Nice. He hid a smile but was all too aware of the curve of a full breast that was just inches from his chin. The need touch it—to taste it—was so fierce and blatant he felt like a horny teenager.

  But even as he moved his hand to touch her, he flashed back to last night and the way the musician had groped her. The way she’d flinched and drawn back.

  Slow down, asshole. Remember, this is about seduction to gain her cooperation, not about getting your rocks off.

  He trailed his kisses lower, to the curve of her breast above the sleeveless cotton dress. Then he paused. Waited to see how she’d react. If she’d push him away, freeze up or…

  The whimper she made was husky and needy, and her back arched just slightly to lift her breast higher toward his lips.

  It was the only invitation he needed to tug down the dress and thick fabric of her bra and bare her to him. Her breast spilled free, so milky white and full. The strawberry-colored tip was already hardened.

  Shit. If he’d had even the slightest bit of control left before, it had just disappeared.

  She’s been there, done that—but never with the sexy hockey player next door.

  One Hot Night

  © 2013 Samantha Hunter

  Old Port Nights, Book 1

  Dating, marriage, divorce…Audra Leone has been there, done that. These days she’s focused on her antiques business and doesn’t need a man complicating her life.

  Still, she can’t help but notice the flirty ex-hockey player who owns the sports bar next door, but he’s got two strikes against him. He’s her landlord, and he’s almost ten years younger—which puts Audra way outside the flock of twenty-somethings vying for his attention.

  When Scott Beckett sees Audra hasn’t closed shop during a major snowstorm, he checks in on her—to find her shackled to a post. He’s more than happy to help and close the distance she keeps firmly between them. He’s well over his playboy days and hungering for something stronger, something lasting.