Siren
strolled over next to me. I wrapped an arm around her neck and kissed
her temple. She leaned into me and warmth spread through my chest. I
trailed my hand through her soft hair and brought my lips to her ear.
“You got another coupla hours, darlin’. Why don’t you go back to bed?”
She
set her coffee down and snaked her hand across my bare stomach. Her
breasts pressed against my chest, her scent filled my lungs and suddenly
the air between us was so fucking charged, I couldn’t see past it.
Eyes stormy, cheeks flushed, her face tipped up. “I want to be with you,” she said softly.
My
dick strained against my boxers. I didn’t know how much of her sentence
was literal and how much was insinuation but I sure as shit was going
to find out.
I pushed my hands into her hair. “I love hearin’ those words pass your lips, but you need to tell me what’s goin’ on.”
Despite me holding her head firm, she managed to look away. “Do I have to?”
“No games.”
Her hands gently braced on my chest. “Last night I felt safe. It felt good…being next to you.”
My muscles tensed, my jaw ticked and I shut everything down. “I’m no fuckin’ hero, I told you that.”
“I like you,” she whispered.
The
weight of her words went straight to my heart and for one second I let
myself breathe it in. Her quiet strength pushed out all the shit in life
and filled the voids with her unassuming resilience. That alone
should’ve had me running in the other direction but three words and I
was sinking. I wanted to drag her into my arms and never let go but she
deserved better. If she knew what I’d agreed to last night, she wouldn’t
be standing here. “You don’t know me.”
Her hands dropped and she stepped back. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything. My mistake.”
I
was on her before the last word left her lips. I slammed my mouth over
hers and sank my tongue into her heat. Pulling her against me, I gripped
her hair, pressed her sweet little ass into my hips and kissed the
motherfucking word mistake out of her mind.
Author Bio:
Sybil
Bartel grew up in Northern California with her head in a book and her
feet in the sand. She dreamt of becoming a painter but the heady scent
of libraries with their shelves full of books drew her into the world of
storytelling. She loves the New Adult genre, but any story about a love
so desperately wrong and impossibly beautiful makes her swoon.
Sybil
now resides in Southern Florida and while she doesn’t get to read as
much as she likes, she still buries her toes in the sand. If she isn’t
writing or fighting to contain the banana plantation in her backyard,
you can find her spending time with her handsomely tattooed husband, her
brilliantly practical son and a mischievous miniature boxer…
But Seriously?
Here are ten things you probably really want to know about Sybil.
She
grew up a faculty brat. She can swear like a sailor. She loves men in
uniform. She hates being told what to do. She can do your taxes (but
don’t ask). The Bird Market in Hong Kong freaks her out. Her favorite
word is desperate…or dirty, or both—she can’t decide. She has a thing
for muscle cars. But never reply on her for driving directions, ever.
And she has a new book boyfriend every week—don’t tell her husband.
To
find out more about Sybil Bartel, be sure to follow her on Twitter (she
loves to hear about your favorite book boyfriend!), visit her website,
like her on Facebook or join her Facebook group Book Boyfriend Heroes
for exclusive excerpts and giveaways.
Talon
Sybil Bartel
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