The sequel to FORBIDDEN.
Tristan is a man who knows what he wants. And he wants Kat in his bed. All he has to do is convince her they belong together . . .
Kat knows the connection she and Tristan share is special. Her British bad boy is too much of everything: too hot, too arrogant, too irresistible to stay away from. He's her addiction and one night with him isn't enough.
That's what hurts the most. They can't date, can't be a normal couple, not when their parents are getting married. Because now that she knows he's going to be her stepbrother, no one can ever find out what they've done . . .
64 Pgs. |Heat: 4 | Purchase Links: Amazon | B & N | Google | iTunes | Kobo
Kat had just
stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body when she heard
the doorknob rattle.
“Just a minute!” It
was probably her dad trying to check on her.
The brass knob
rattled again.
“Almost done,” she
said as she tucked the towel more firmly about her body, mentally smacking
herself for forgetting to pack her long robe.
When she unlocked
the door, it flew open instantly. A shirtless Tristan stood there, holding a
towel, looking down at her with those hypnotic blue-green eyes.
Her eyes, without
approval from her brain, swept down over his body: the sculpted abs, the
indentations of his pelvic muscles, and the way his jeans hung low on his hips.
Hips she’d held and dug her nails into the other night as he’d pounded into
her. Her lower body twisted and clenched with sudden desire at the mere memory
of his raw, powerful possession of her. She couldn’t forget the feel of his
body, pressing her down, his cock filling her until she couldn’t breathe. The
way he’d owned every part of her.
Damn. How had she
convinced herself that avoiding him was a good idea? Right now she wanted to
drop the towel and beg him to take her, damn the consequences.
“Are you finished?”
His tone was pleasant. No hint of fire, no branding scorch of his gaze…just
politeness. He was doing exactly what she’d asked him to do. Treat her like a
stepsister he’d only just met. Before today’s awful revelation of their
parents’ engagement, he would have smirked at her, teased, and tried to steal
the towel… A pang of longing for the playful part of him swept through her.
God, she missed that.
What would it take
to win one little smile from him, one that was meant for her, and not tempered
by his polite distance.
I asked for this.
It didn’t make her feel any better.
“I’m done.” Heat
rushed to her face from embarrassment at her inner thoughts. Thankfully he had
no idea how conflicted she was feeling right now. Or how her body was reacting
to being so close to him and being denied his touch. Like a thirsty woman
crawling across a Saharan desert and glimpsing an island oasis only to discover
it was a mirage.
He made a low,
gruff noise, not exactly a response, but it sent shivers through her. She
couldn’t forget the sounds he’d made in bed two nights ago. He’d been
half-animal, growling, nipping, showing her a rough side to passion, one she
knew she would always crave. Tristan had pierced a dark part of her sexual
side, exposing it to the light, and she couldn’t deny that it existed, nor did
she want to.
He slid past her,
their bodies brushed in the narrow space of the doorway. Heat exploded through
her, and she froze, trying to control her reaction to him.
Tristan froze, too,
their bodies pressed close. His warm breath fanned her cheeks and his natural
masculine scent enveloped her. Memories of their night together came flooding
back, no matter how she tried to keep it out.
He lifted his hand
to her cheek, pausing a second before he would have touched her. She met his
gaze, her breaths shallow as his lips twitched in a ghost of a smile. Then he
brushed his knuckles over her skin. Fire rippled in the wake of that “barely
there” caress. Every part of her was aware of him and his closeness.
Would it be so hard
to keep a relationship between them a secret from their parents? Maybe they
could…
“Please…” she
begged, unsure of what she really wanted.
“Please, what?” he
replied, in that dark, low tone that made her purr inside like a cat in heat.
He slowly backed her into the wall next to the shower, closing the door behind
him. He placed his hands on either side of her head, caging her in, and lowered
his face to hers.
A feather-light,
teasing kiss. A nip at her bottom lip. She clenched her thighs together,
feeling the rush of wet heat in response to his subtle aggression. How could he
affect her like this? His touch, his kiss, sent her body into riotous waves of
longing for him.
He nuzzled her
neck, licking and nibbling on the sensitive spots that sent electric pulses
from her head to her toes.
Kat grabbed his
shoulders, digging her fingers into his hot, bare skin. The towel around her
body stretched against her breasts as she struggled to control her breathing.
His hands dropped
from the wall to her waist, tugging on the folds of the towel that barely
covered her.
It would be so
easy, he could lift my towel up and fuck me right here against the wall. Just
one more time, we could…
The towel dropped
to the floor.
LAUREN SMITH, winner of the 2014 Historical International Digital Award, attended Oklahoma State University, where she earned a B.A. in both history and political science. Drawn to paintings and museums, Lauren is obsessed with antiques and satisfies her fascination with history by writing and exploring exotic, ancient lands. She is currently an attorney in Tulsa, Oklahoma.
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