ALL REVVED UP PDF
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"Well written, snappy and HOT. Sylvia Day's All Revved Up is a really fun read!" - Emma Holly. All Revved Up book. Read reviews from the world's largest community for readers. On the eve of his thirtieth birthday, Miguel Santos leaves his high-. You wanna get your fantastic book of Download All Revved Up Pdf By Sylvia Day created by resourceone.info Mentoring Well, it's right location for.
He crossed his arms and widened his stance, his jaw clenching as the button-fly of his jeans dug into his straining cock.
It fucking killed him that she could still affect him this way. She could shred him just fine without any help. She revealed nothing. His dick throbbed in time with the pounding beat of his heart.
The Torettos moved a few years ago. They wanted a quiet little restaurant, so when things got busy around here, they moved on. His gaze narrowed on that telltale movement. Expectation thrummed through him, a heated awareness that made a joke of the casual interaction they were pretending this was. Tension was strung tight between them, vibrating in the air with the energy of an approaching thunderstorm.
Just a little. Even the man he was today was incapable of that depth of emotion and connection. She looked edible. His mouth was damn near watering with the anticipation of tasting her again. He bared his teeth in a smile. He wanted a rushed dinner followed by unrushed sex that would pale in comparison to his exaggerated recollections.
Miguel Santos. Even after all these years, his effect on her was like getting hit by a bus.
And thinning hair. She bet he still had washboard abs and a heavily muscled back. And the rest of him… Jesus. One look at him and she swore she could feel him pushing inside her. She remembered that all too well.
The searing pleasure of his entry. The sensation of utter surrender. Russell stepped into the office, his blue eyes dark with concern. He tried to play it off, but he was seething.
I could feel it from several feet away. Maybe this is a second chance. Hurting each other? Everything was knotted up inside her, making her lightheaded and queasy. Mine is here in California. Air tools whirred loudly, drowning out the sound of multiple radios, each playing a different genre to suit the tastes of the auto tech who owned it.
That better? It turns him on that I wrench and get dirty. It had always been that way between them, their desire simmering below the surface, ready to boil over at the slightest provocation. If he wants to ring in the occasion by working out his frustration in the sack, well She was reaching for the phone when he poked his head back in. I have a rep to maintain. You tell Miguel that if he gets out of hand. Seated on two acres in the middle of an otherwise modern residential area, the two story bed and breakfast had a wide wraparound porch and huge yard.
God, the place had memories. She was certain Miguel had chosen it for that very reason. To unsettle her, maybe. He was going to make her go inside, make her face the ghosts of their past. With effort, she resisted the urge to smooth the skirt of her dress. It was classic black, in a soft jersey and wraparound style. The crisscrossing halves created a plunging neckline that revealed the upper swells of her breasts and a hint of blue lace demi-bra, the hue of which matched her eyes.
The whole ensemble was new, from her earrings to her heels. She thought of it as armor. Her only defense against Miguel was his desire for her. Reaching the door, she knocked on the inset glass. He called for her to come in, so she entered, but nothing could have prepared her for what she found inside. She closed the door by stumbling back and leaning heavily against it, her knees weakened by a lust so ferocious it made her dizzy.
Brazenly unabashed, Miguel stood in the living room completely nude, his gorgeous caramel-hued skin on display, his beautiful abs and biceps flexing as he dried himself. His body was the stuff of orgasmic dreams, hard and rippling with muscle. Wide shoulders tapering down to a lean waist and hips.
Maturity graced him, turning his formerly sinewy and lanky body into a powerhouse of potent masculinity. He personified the fantasy of a sensual Latin lover, dripping sex and confidence, free of any inhibitions.
Her gaze fell to his cock and stayed there helplessly, her mouth watering at his virility. He was half-erect and impressive. When he was fully aroused, as he was quickly becoming under the avidity of her gaze, he was a sexual god. A small sound escaped her, a needy cry as her pussy grew slick and soft with wanting.
Sharp possessiveness sunk its claws into her, curling her hands into fists. Mine, she thought savagely. The towel fell to the floor. Faith panted through parted lips as he came toward her in a riveting display of golden skin and sinuous muscle. His eyes, so dark they were nearly black, smoldered with carnal intent. The curve of his exquisite mouth was etched with cruelty.
She was aching with emptiness, tense with expectation, heartbroken that they should be at this place— wanting each other so deeply they were sick with it. His face was pressed into her hair, his breathing harsh against her ear.
One hand cupped the back of her thigh, kneading with almost painful squeezes as he moved up and under the hem of her dress. He palmed her bare cheek before sliding around to the front, growling when he found the wet satin covering her pussy.
Faith gasped at the electric contact, her hips thrusting forward without volition. Catching her around the waist with his arm, he hitched her up hard against him. She jolted against him, her body strung so tight she thought she might snap. Were you thinking of me when you stepped into this thong and pulled it on? Were you thinking of what it would do to me? How crazed it would make me? Did the thought of me desperate to fuck you turn you on? He tensed against her, his arm at her waist nearly crushing her.
How do you want it? She bit her lip to hold off an orgasm, fighting not to embarrass herself by showing just how long it had been since a man had touched her sexually. Easy and slow. Piercing her defenses with consummate skill. Save the fucking for after dinner?
If not for his grip, she would have sunk to the floor in a quivering mess. Miguel knew how to bare her soul in a way no one else could. Not like this. He turned his head so swiftly, he startled her. But when he sealed his mouth over hers, there was no urgency. His tongue licked across the seam of her parted lips, then dipped inside, teasing. His teeth nibbled at the strawberry gloss she knew he loved, his low moan vibrating against her breasts.
Her toes curled. Then he ripped her panties off her body, rocking her on her stilettos. The sharp bite of pain as the elastic dug into her hips before breaking only fueled her fierce determination to reach the tender, loving man she once knew. She lifted one leg and anchored it on his hip, but even with three-inch heels, she was too short to take his cock. Miguel gripped the backs of her thighs and hefted her up.
Her arms encircled his shoulders, their gazes meeting. His features were stark, his mouth a hard line. His penis throbbed against her, the thick length pressed between the parted folds of her sex. She pushed her fingers into his dark hair, the thick locks feeling like damp silk against her skin. The words she wanted to say burned her throat and tongue, explanations and declarations that would only cause more pain because the end would only be the same. Instead she said the only part of the truth that might help to heal One of his hands slid up her spine to cradle the back of her head.
He lowered her to the mattress as if she was cherished and breakable. Her back settled onto the cool comforter and she released him with reluctance, wishing only to hold him close, to soothe him, to say with her touch and body what she knew better than to say with words.
He arranged her for his pleasure, with her hips at the edge of the bed.
He stood between her spread legs, a sexual fantasy come to life, exuding dominance and forceful masculinity from every pore. He tossed her skirt out of the way and took his cock in hand. Fisting it once. Color flagging his cheekbones, a wince betraying how hard he was. She opened wider for him, her thighs falling open, followed shortly by the untying of her dress and the parting of the halves. A decade slipped away as if it had never come between them at all. Here she was, only hours after his return, offering herself to him with no restraint.
Faith writhed with need, her chest tight with a yearning she was certain would destroy her when he left again. The hours between now and his departure were too precious to waste. Her stomach knotted at the thought, the urgency of time running away from her filled her with aching fear.
How had she lived without this He watched her face as he rubbed his satiny cockhead against her. Tell me to fuck you. She scissored her fingers and gripped his shaft between her knuckles, licking her lips in blatant provocation. He caught his lower lip between even white teeth, his features so austerely sexual she creamed in expectation, bathing him in a fresh rush of moisture. He slid in a fraction deeper and electricity raced across her skin. It had been so long He filled her with a practiced roll of his hips, stretching her delectably.
The familiar feeling of utter surrender swept over her, arching her neck and closing her eyes. Squeezing me like a fist. Sex was an art for Miguel. Orgasm was a bonus for him; the buildup to getting there was what he really savored. His haste to get inside her, his crudity, told her how hurt he was and how closely he nursed that pain.
How determined he was to depersonalize an act that was profoundly intimate for them. With his gaze riveted to the place where their bodies joined, Miguel pulled his heavy cock from her in a slow, wet glide. He splayed his hands on her inner thighs, his skin so dark against hers, his grip gentle but unyielding. He held her open as he surged forward, pushing pleasure through her aching body.
In a deliciously erotic display of rippling abdominal muscles and powerfully veined biceps, he fucked her with perfect rhythm. He worked her pussy into a blissful relaxed state so that she took him more easily, so that each push and withdrawal became more fluid.
Faith moaned, insensate with lust and longing. Her nails, short as they were, left crescents in his skin. Her pussy rippled with delight and he growled, grabbing her hips and lifting them into his thrusts. His measured tempo increased, his hips churning and swiveling, his rigid penis shafting her tender pussy with relentless drives. She caught the comforter in her fists, arching into his delicious pounding. Sobbing with pleasure, she spasmed around him, so close to coming again she could taste it.
He was shoved so deep, he was touching her cervix. His chest and abdomen sheened with sweat. Clenching his jaw, he threw his head back and climaxed violently.
His fingers dug with bruising force into her hips, cramming her tight against him. She felt every jerk of his cock, every scorching pulse of semen. The ferocity of his pleasure and the primal way he ensured she took every drop pushed her over the edge with him. A mist of sweat bloomed on her skin, the orgasm searing across her nerve endings and blackening her vision.
Held rigid in the grip of mind-blowing pleasure, Faith cried out his name in a hoarse broken voice, her pussy milking him in tiny convulsions until he fell across her in a gasping blanket of hot beloved male. The ecstasy sizzling down his spine kept him coming, his balls aching as he emptied them deep inside her.
Without volition, his hips rocked into her, his body mindlessly seeking a way to crawl inside her. To possess her. He used to be able to get out of bed afterward and walk to the bathroom to dispose of the condom Ay Dios mio Nuzzling his temple against hers, Miguel waited for the panic to strike and felt only a vicious primitive satisfaction.
For the first time in his life he was balls-deep and bareback in a woman, and it was the one woman in the world he could ever imagine having children with. She took family seriously.
He could have her and the life he wanted. Ruthless, yes, but then he always was when he wanted something. Whether she loved him or not He could live with just this—her hot and luscious body in his bed, taking everything he could give her with unrestrained abandon. It was too easy to picture her in his penthouse in Manhattan, spread out on his gray silk sheets, sobbing his name as he fucked her with the nightscape of the city displayed thru the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the bed.
With his knee, he nudged her leg over, widening the cradle of her thighs. He lifted his head and looked down at her, his aspirations for the result of this visit altering by the moment.
His tongue traced the curve of his lower lip, his gaze sweeping over her face, taking in the dazed pleasure in her eyes and the cat-like smile of contentment. He rolled his hips just to feel how soaked she was. She inhaled sharply. A gruff sound of pleasure escaped him. Looking up at him with the blue eyes that haunted him, she gave him a taunting smile and wriggled suggestively.
Not yet. But you will be. She made him feel like a teenager again, hopeful and vigorous. The domesticity that he avoided with other women had been an aphrodisiac with Faith. The pleasure he could give her was a vulnerability he was prepared to exploit.
He would do or say whatever was necessary to get her to come home with him. The world was at his fingertips.
He could meet whatever demands she might make of him. He met her around the front, raking her with a head-to-toe glance. The dress was amazing for its simplicity, allowing the woman inside it to take center stage—a woman who was presently commando in public, which drove him insane every time he thought about it.
She was beautiful, with a body built for sin, but she was also down to earth and self-effacing. She had a wicked sense of humor and a keen sense of fair play. He found it sexy as hell that she could diagnose and repair any car trouble, had minor plumbing skills, and could put together any home electronics system, regardless of how many cords and connections were required.
His best friend in high school had said she would be the perfect girl if only she liked sports. Miguel knew she was perfect even without that interest. They slid into a booth, and ordered some beer and hot wings to start.
After the waiter moved away, Miguel leaned back and opened conversation. Although the town has grown, it still has that small town mentality. Even after they built the auto mall and the dealerships moved in, most of the residents trust us more. And they send a lot of referrals our way. He wanted to give her everything, spoil her to excess, just so he could see her look at him like that every day.
They love it, too. His expression sobered, however, when he looked at Miguel. Faith laughed. Even over the blaring music he heard it and the sound tightened his chest. He found that erotic. Of course, everything about her was erotic to his mind. The closest he came to relaxing while conscious was when he was with Faith. Russell has never come close. Was desperate to, actually. So everyone would know you belonged to me. He pushed forward.
As always, he was playing to win. The large round plate was set between them, but neither of them moved to eat. She was pressing for But the only thing that stuck with me was her assertion that she was perfect for me. That we were compatible in every way and I was just too fucked up to see it. She may tease him about his possessiveness, but she was equally so. Always had been. He was her man and anyone who forgot that was swiftly reminded.
Only I get to taste. She looked shaken, but not overly pleased about his confession. Maybe he was just a hot fuck.
Wiping her hands with a napkin, she looked at him, her features soft and her eyes impossibly sad. I knew a clean break was the only way you would go without me holding you back. His hand tightened with white-knuckled force on the bottle.
With his gut churning with anger and confusion, he seized the one thing out of the mess of his emotions that mattered to him. She looked at him with luminous eyes. The fact is, you loved your family more. Hanging on to you would only have proven them right. You had years of college ahead of you—fraternities, sports, late night-studying There was no place for me in that. Or we could have agreed to a long-distance relationship. Phone calls, visits, holiday breaks. You needed to create the contacts you could use in the future.
A tear slid down her cheek, pissing him off. Was that a lie, too? He dug into his pocket for his money clip and tossed cash on the table. Where you should have been the last eleven years. He swore the room tilted. The overly loud music pounded through his skull. He stumbled away from the booth, nearly toppling a waitress balancing a full-tray of food.
Apologizing over his shoulder, he made his way outside, desperate for air in his burning lungs. He went into the bedroom, his body taut with a tension that told her to give him some time alone.
This day of reckoning was long overdue. She began to eat, ravenous in a way only a stress-eater could be. She was nearly done by the time Miguel reappeared. He entered the living area dressed in striped silk pajama bottoms and nothing else. There was a new bottle of cognac on the table behind the couch and he went to it, opening it and pouring himself a glass. He glanced at her in silent inquiry, but she shook her head.
Although the town has grown, it still has that small town mentality. Even after they built the auto mall and the dealerships moved in, most of the residents trust us more. And they send a lot of referrals our way. He wanted to give her everything, spoil her to excess, just so he could see her look at him like that every day.
They love it, too. His expression sobered, however, when he looked at Miguel. Faith laughed. Even over the blaring music he heard it and the sound tightened his chest. He found that erotic. Of course, everything about her was erotic to his mind. The closest he came to relaxing while conscious was when he was with Faith. Russell has never come close. Was desperate to, actually.
So everyone would know you belonged to me. He pushed forward. As always, he was playing to win. The large round plate was set between them, but neither of them moved to eat.
She was pressing for But the only thing that stuck with me was her assertion that she was perfect for me. That we were compatible in every way and I was just too fucked up to see it. She may tease him about his possessiveness, but she was equally so. Always had been. He was her man and anyone who forgot that was swiftly reminded. Only I get to taste.
She looked shaken, but not overly pleased about his confession. Maybe he was just a hot fuck.
All Revved Up
Wiping her hands with a napkin, she looked at him, her features soft and her eyes impossibly sad. I knew a clean break was the only way you would go without me holding you back. His hand tightened with white-knuckled force on the bottle. With his gut churning with anger and confusion, he seized the one thing out of the mess of his emotions that mattered to him.
She looked at him with luminous eyes. The fact is, you loved your family more. Hanging on to you would only have proven them right. You had years of college ahead of you—fraternities, sports, late night-studying There was no place for me in that. Or we could have agreed to a long-distance relationship. Phone calls, visits, holiday breaks. You needed to create the contacts you could use in the future.
A tear slid down her cheek, pissing him off. Was that a lie, too? He dug into his pocket for his money clip and tossed cash on the table. Where you should have been the last eleven years. He swore the room tilted. The overly loud music pounded through his skull.
He stumbled away from the booth, nearly toppling a waitress balancing a full-tray of food. Apologizing over his shoulder, he made his way outside, desperate for air in his burning lungs. He went into the bedroom, his body taut with a tension that told her to give him some time alone. This day of reckoning was long overdue. She began to eat, ravenous in a way only a stress-eater could be.
She was nearly done by the time Miguel reappeared. He entered the living area dressed in striped silk pajama bottoms and nothing else. There was a new bottle of cognac on the table behind the couch and he went to it, opening it and pouring himself a glass. He glanced at her in silent inquiry, but she shook her head. There was nothing to be done about it, not with as disparate as their lives were. Resentment would grow in whichever one of them was forced to give up their lifestyle and livelihood for the other.
He lifted the tulip-shaped glass of amber liquid to his lips and drank, his eyes closing with a weariness that broke her heart. And in the end, he set the refilled glass down and walked away from it. As it was, it was killing her to keep Michael away from his father, but she knew what would happen if Miguel knew. He would take over, force her to go with him to keep her son. But the life she was giving Michael now was the best for him.
He would want to emulate his father and grandfather, follow in their footsteps. He would go to Princeton on the trust Mrs. But first she wanted to give him a loving, stable home. She wanted him to learn the value of hard work, and to know what it felt like to covet something and not be able to afford it.
She exhaled softly, steeling her resolve. Is he active in yours? We went our separate ways some time ago. His gaze was determined and challenging. So like him. Romance was in his blood. At heart, he believed love conquered all. She was breathless with the need to cry. He was a warrior prince, set upon a quest to save his fair princess from a life of toil.
He wanted to spirit her away to his tower, where he would drape her in jewels and see that her every whim was met. If only she wanted to be rescued. Miguel wiped his mouth with a napkin, then drank from one of the bottles of water that had been artfully arranged in the center of the table. Pushing away from her place setting, Faith stood and went to him. He slid his chair back, making room for her. Lifting her skirt, she straddled him, cupping his face in her hands and trusting him to support her back with his tender grip.
Her fingers brushed his hair from his forehead. His eyes closed as if her touch soothed him, but she knew it invariably caused him pain. To take the risk It pissed me off to think that way. The years we were together were the happiest of my life. I would never change them. That there was no way to avoid us falling apart. The comment about the supermodel I was worried about me. Placing her hand over his heart, she felt its strong and steady beat against her palm.
A heart that beat for her alone, just as hers had been in his keeping for more than half her life. And part of the magic might be that I work on the cars of people I know and grew up around. I do want to travel and explore. But I want to work, too.
And my unhappiness would make you unhappy. It really came down to logistics: I was worried you might decide to stay here, for me, when I knew your heart was with joining your father. I wanted you to go to Princeton. I wanted you to do the things you always talked about doing. Six months in New York and six months here?
He moved to the couch and settled with her still straddling him. Everything was different now. Anything should have been possible. The damage was done. Summer school breaks in New York, the rest of the year here. I can commute twice a week. Fly out Sunday and come back Thursday night. Her heart was breaking, crumbling into shattered pieces with every word he spoke.
Things I have to tell you. Soon enough to clear the air. She gave a tentative stroke and he groaned, tendons cording his neck. Her lips were suddenly dry and she licked them.
Sliding of the couch, she kneeled between his legs and lowered her head. She made a soft noise of pleasure and reached between his legs to cup his balls. His head fell back into the sofa cushion, his breath heaving in and out. The sight of her between his legs always drove him insane.
Seeing those lush pink lips stretch around the thick head, watching her eyes grow dark with desire. She got off on his hunger for her, got off on knowing that he was absolutely defenseless when she had her hands on him.
Tilting her head, she ran her tongue down the pulsing length of his cock, following the line of a thick vein. His hands fisted by his thighs. She swirled her tongue around the head, then fluttered the tip just beneath the crown. Faith, your mouth His back arched with a serrated groan.
The drenching heat around the most sensitive part of him nearly drove him out of his mind. Her gentle fingertips massaging his balls just about rolled his eyes into the back of his head. Suck my dick.
Her cheeks hollowed on every pull, her head lifting and falling in counter-tempo to her fist pumping at the base. The pleasure was vicious, tightening around his spine and pooling at his lower back. The erotic sounds filling the room—her low moans of pleasure, the wet suckling, his helpless curses as he felt the orgasm barreling through him. Her hands tightened on his cock and balls. Deep inside you. She was hot and wet for him, just from sucking his cock.
He parted her with his fingers, rubbing her clit with easy gentle circles. She gasped and arched into his touch. With his mouth watering for her, he slid down and draped one of her legs over his shoulder; the other rested on the floor, opening her wide. She lay there, breathless beneath him, her pretty pink folds glistening with her desire. Her clit was hard and peeping out from its hood, silently begging for attention. He pulled himself over her, keeping one of her lithe legs high against his chest.
He plunged into her, growling at the feel of her climaxing around his aching cock. Gripping the couch arm for leverage, he powered into her, his orgasm catching the tail of hers and ripping through him.
He was rocked by the force of it, his body shuddering so brutally he feared hurting Faith. He clutched her to him, holding her still, his eyes stinging as she held him just as tightly.
Where he intended to make sure they would always be from this night forward.
Stretching, he opened his eyes and looked at the place beside him where Faith should have been. The English version of his name. Faith would have known that when she picked it. Tossing back the covers, he climbed out of bed. He had a lot to do before Faith returned. He needed to extend his time off and make sure the bungalow was open for the next couple of weeks. He needed to talk with his father about a work week in which he teleconferenced as necessary on Thursdays and Fridays.
He also wanted to talk with her about some of the things Faith had said. Meredith Santos had left her husband, whom she claimed to still love, to return to her hometown and raise her son.
Any insight he could gain in understanding where Faith was coming from was very much worth it to him to explore. They were going to be his in- laws soon and the quicker everyone got on board with that plan, the better. He followed his mother out of the residential neighborhoods and into town, just because they were heading in the same direction.
As she turned into the parking lot of a drugstore, he slowed behind her by necessity, long enough that the classic Corvette in the parking lot caught his eye, as did the curvaceous woman beside it.
See a Problem?
Faith had changed into tight, low-slung jeans that showed off her magnificent ass and a black tank top that hugged her full breasts. When she lifted her hand and waved, he thought for a second it might be at him. Then he realized that it was his mother she greeted. Pulling into the next driveway, Miguel parked his rental in the first available spot and got out, seeing this as a perfect opportunity to reintroduce the two women in his life—the two Mrs.
Yes, he was moving fast; he always had. But they had a lot of years to catch up on. He was striding toward Faith when he spotted a lanky, dark-haired boy crossing the parking lot to her. She greeted him with open arms, while smiling at his mother, who brought up the rear.
Miguel drew to an abrupt halt, his heartbeat thundering. He also looked too much like Miguel had at that age. Spitting image. Michael straightened, his direct gaze piercing right through Miguel. Frowning, the young boy took a jerky step forward.
I had a right to know. She was a young girl, still in high school. At that time in her life, she needed stability and her mother. She had you by the balls with Michael. He was going to be a direct siphon into your bank account. You were young, in love, and salivating with lust. It was Michael as a toddler, beating two dandelions together in the garden and laughing.
Even though she was unlikely to leave the house again, she was wearing a silk blouse, pencil skirt, heels, and a sapphire choker.
You could have told me the truth. While you were so heroically saving me from a gold digger, I was supposed to tell you I was wretched without her? Pride did you both in. But Michael knows about you. He has a biased view, of course. She does see them, but she loves you for them. What they had together They had a son. Faith had known he would, when he was ready.
But that was a small hope amid big issues. How could he ever look past it all? She felt him approach without turning around. Miguel Santos was like a force of nature. In business or the bedroom, he swept through like a tornado, so exhilarating and dangerous. She waited with her bare feet dug into the cool sand and her arms clasped around her upraised knees. Wind whipped through her hair, drying her tears nearly as fast as they fell.
He sat down beside her. I have no right to cry. Something inside her died at the sight of it. The waves crashed against the shore in rhythmic roars. We just have to stop making decisions for each other without talking about things first. I just assumed you wanted the same things I did. How do we get to the other side of this?
Figure out how to compromise, discuss possibilities, get rid of resentments, and move forward as one unit. Piece of cake. Turning, she pushed him back into the sand and straddled him. Is that so hard to believe? I can bend and you can trust. We can do this. He lifted one shoulder in an insolent shrug.
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We do this together. A wife and mother of two, she is a former Russian linguist for the U. Army Military Intelligence. Sylvia also writes under the pseudonyms S. Day and Livia Dare. Connect with Sylvia Day online: Since he was on leave from the Marshals Service office in Albuquerque, the only calls he would be receiving were in his capacity as a Special Operations Group deputy. As such, he was a last resort and on call twenty-four hours a day. His twelve-man response team was activated only after the shit had already hit the fan.
His fellow deputies would laugh if they knew how edgy he was getting with every mile that passed. As a SOG deputy marshal—a Shadow Stalker—he squared off with hardened criminals and suicidal terrorists as a matter of course. He did his job with mechanical precision, never breaking a sweat. He faced death as if he had nothing to lose or nothing to live for.
Yet the thought of facing Rachel Tse was shredding him. The voice on the other end of the line reverberated through him like a gunshot report. Did I lose you? I was just calculating the possibility of my arriving in time for lunch.
He needed time to get his head on straight. Visions of her blond hair fisted in his hands Getting that obsession under control was a necessity if he had any hope of convincing her she was off the hook as far as he was concerned. Jack realized his friend must have known how he felt.
And that killed him. No man should have to deal with knowing his best friend is in love with his wife. He would pick up the keys to his cottage in Carmel from the property managers who rented it out for him, then grab a six-pack of beer and hunker down for the night. We can catch up. At night.
With Riley gone until morning? Yeah, right. Madly in love. When he walked into the room, she became skittish—nostrils flaring, eyes widening, body moving restlessly.
Her primal reaction aroused every predatory sense in his body, making him edgy and sharpening his hunger for her. But if you make it into town sooner, call me.
And be careful on the road. Steve had been killed by a drunk driver on the way home from work one night, changing all of their lives forever.
Jack hung up. Shifting on the seat, he adjusted the fit of his jeans, which was now extremely uncomfortable. Ahead of him, the road to perdition wound its way through the tiny town of Spreckles. It was going to be a long week. An angel with immense power and insatiable desire, Adrian Mitchell leads an elite Special Ops unit of the seraphim. His task is to punish the Fallen—angels who have become vampires—and command a restless pack of indentured lycans.His head fell back into the sofa cushion, his breath heaving in and out.
How had she lived without this Miguel knew how to bare her soul in a way no one else could. The sharp bite of pain as the elastic dug into her hips before breaking only fueled her fierce determination to reach the tender, loving man she once knew. Color flagging his cheekbones, a wince betraying how hard he was. He faced death as if he had nothing to lose or nothing to live for. And thinning hair.
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