Book Title: Emergency Attraction
Author: Samanthe Beck
Release Date: April 17, 2017
About the Emergency Attraction
Ten years ago when Shane Maguire chose the Marines as his escape from some trouble of his own making, he only regretted one thing—leaving Sinclair Smith behind. Despite his best intentions, she ended up as the one that got away. Now he’s back, determined to reclaim everything he gave up, including Sinclair.
Sinclair is immune to Shane’s charms. She’s immune to stolen kisses behind the gym. And she’s definitely immune to that maneuver he did in the back seat of his car… Okay, maybe her hormones are susceptible, but she has absolutely no desire to risk anything on the bad boy who broke all his promises.
When a little emergency lands her at his mercy, he offers her a deal she can’t refuse. And this time, she’ll show Shane what it means to be left wanting…
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Excerpt
“How about this, Sinclair? Do you hate this?”
“Uh-huh.” Her hands shook as she tugged his fly open. “I hate it…”
And then she was holding it, stroking, relearning landmarks the years had
subtly altered—the smooth, blunt tip, the sensitive opening that still dragged
a groan out of him when she explored it with her thumb, the flare of flesh
marking the transition from head to shaft. It wasn’t until she’d wrapped her
hand around the thickest part, wringing another low sound from his throat, that
she realized the pressure in her chest was building to match the pressure at
her core. Longing took many forms, and all of them were about to have their way
with her. And she wasn’t strong enough to stop any of it. Gripping his hips for
balance, she dropped to her knees. “I really hate it,” she said again, then put
her lips against the tip.
His head dropped forward, and his fingers tangled in her hair.
“Jesus. Show me. Punish me.”
She took him into her mouth, leading with her tongue, stretching
her lips to surround him. Taste and scent unleashed vivid, sensory
flashbacks…the thrill of discovering every mysterious inch of him, the pride of
making him tremble for her, the joy of hearing him say her name over and over
again as he lost control. The memories stung her eyes and tightened her chest.
Then he groaned and gave a rough, potentially involuntary thrust. The move
generated heat, and friction, and raw new needs.
Desperate to satisfy them, she planted her knees, tipped her head
to the most accommodating angle, and offered him everything. Just the way she’d
learned to do during those long spring nights a lifetime ago.
“Fuck, Sinclair.” He gripped her chin and stared down at her. “You
have no idea how much I missed you. You couldn’t possibly. Leaving you felt
like losing a vital organ.” Then he thrust again, and again, in rapid
succession. She’d braced for fast, and deep. Wanted it. But he remembered a few
things, too—like how easily he could reduce her to a quivering mess by holding
back, teasing her with quick, shallow strokes. Punishment, she discovered, cut
both ways, and could be unbearably sweet as well as heartrendingly painful.
Despite his restraining hand, she went deep, gorging herself on all of it—past,
present, sweetness, pain…him—knowing full well it was too much, but still would
never be enough.
A sob pushed its way into her throat. She choked it back and hoped
he attributed the artless noise to her overeager struggle to take as much of
him as she possibly could. His big hand stroked her jaw. “Easy, baby girl,” he
murmured and then sliced her heart open with one careful fingertip, running it
over her lips, tracing the seam where their bodies met. How had she forgotten
the way he did that? Or how one simple gesture could make her feel
so…cherished?
Except he’d taught her she wasn’t the kind of girl men cherished,
and now he’d come back and undermined the lesson with a single explanation. How
dare he? Because in doing so, he also took away her justification for
distributing blame for what happened that summer to him, which meant she had to
accept it all. “I hate you,” she said, reminding him, reminding herself,
and then lowered her head to finish him. Exorcise him. Claim one harshly honest
moment and be done with him.
But a strong arm hooked under her shoulder and hauled her up until
her face hovered just millimeters from his. Her lips throbbed from the friction
of his cock sliding between them. His taste coated her tongue. Deprivation set
in, sudden and painful, but maddeningly patient green eyes stared into hers,
taking stock, unquestionably seeing the deprivation, and the need, but looking
past them to things she didn’t want him to see. Didn’t want anyone to see.
“No, you don’t. You wish you did, but you don’t.”
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Samanthe Beck lives in Malibu, California, with her long-suffering husband, their turbo-son, and a furry ninja named Kitty.
When not dreaming up fun, fan-your-cheeks sexy ways to get her characters to happily-ever-after, she searches for the perfect cabernet to pair with Ambien.
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