Love and Let Die (Masters and Mercenaries #5)(130)

I picked up a bottle of something Dev liked the smell of and then put it back down in favor of plain old soap. I told myself it was because I needed to be professional. I didn’t want to go into a client meeting smelling like a woman who had just had sex four times. If I was honest with myself, and I tried not to be, I didn’t want to hurt Daniel.

I finished up in the shower and turned it off, wrapping a warm towel around my body. Dev was sitting on the sink when I went to retrieve my clothes. He’d slipped into silk boxers and looked at me with a sad smile.

“Sorry,” he said. “I know I’m being an ass. I’m just jealous.”

“You have nothing to be jealous of.” It sounded like a reassuring lie even to my ears. “If I could get a divorce, I would.”

I’d come to accept the marriage I had been tricked into. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice. Tricked is a harsh word. Daniel had been trying to protect me at the time. It was his excuse for everything. I didn’t resent the protection. I resented the fact that he’d left me ignorant. I had to find out from a demon that we were married. There’d been no vows of love and devotion, no white dress or fabulous reception. There had been blood and sex and a transfer of ownership between Daniel and myself.

And there was no divorce when you were married to a vampire.





Wicked and Dangerous, featuring Wicked All Night

Wicked Lovers, Book 7.5

By Shayla Black

Available October 1, 2013



A sweet school teacher who changed towns, jobs, and lives after her divorce decides to take a lover. She hooks up with a bodyguard whose talents under the sheets make her melt. Until she learns that his motives are just as dangerous as they are wicked…





Excerpt:



Rachel Linden fixed her gaze across the room at the man staring her way, standing between the two suits. Her jaw dropped before she forcibly snapped it shut. Holy cow! Between the alcohol and the press of bodies, she was overheated. But he made her shiver.

Military-short black hair capped off his angled face, covered by a healthy two days’ growth of beard. His eyes remained hidden behind a pair of aviators that rested on top of chiseled cheekbones. His black shirt nearly busted at the shoulder seams. Under the short sleeves, his biceps bulged. The soft cotton clung to every valley and ridge of his pectorals and abdominals.

He was a man with a capital M, the sort who made a woman swallow her tongue. The kind her mother had warned her about. The type who’d starred in her fantasies. And the one she wanted sliding against her skin-to-skin now. Dark and bad, yes . . . but those big hands and muscled forearms alone said he’d be oh so good.

Just looking at him, Rachel had trouble breathing. Every inch of him was hard. If she’d had a fantasy in the flesh, he’d be it.

A tattoo—Asian writing maybe—drifted down his veined forearm. Dog tags hung from his neck. The little smile curling his lips was somewhere between an invitation and a challenge. And he was staring directly at her.

The bottom fell out of her stomach. Normally, she’d shy away from such a man. Aaron, the fifth grade social studies teacher, had asked her out a few weeks ago. He was polite and had kind brown eyes. He’d mentioned a local theater production that sounded interesting. That was her speed. This man in front of her . . .

“He looks good enough to eat. And to lick, slurp, suck . . . Damn, girl!” Shonda, one of the art teachers, murmured in her ear.

If you’re going to dive into a meal after starving, why not start with the juiciest one you can find?

She glanced at Shonda’s dark skin gleaming under the dim house lights and faintly flashing colored strobes. “Is it my imagination or is he staring at me?”

“Right at you, like he thinks you’re a tasty snack. Go on now. Talk to him.”

And say what? Hi, I haven’t had sex since I divorced my ex over a year ago, and I’ve never had it as down and dirty and sweaty as I’ll bet you could give it to me.

“Maybe he thinks I work here.”

Shonda snorted. “Maybe you’re insane. Jarelle is an awesome fiancé with enough freak in bed to keep me smiling, but hell . . . If I were single, I’d be all over him like paste on wallpaper.”

Rachel laughed. Leave it to Shonda to tell it like it was. And to be right. Rachel had to admit that she’d never know what could be if she didn’t try to talk to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Hot.

She turned back toward him, a welcoming smile in place. But he was already leaving behind his two friends, wearing insanely expensive suits, and walking her way. No, “walking” was the wrong word. “Approaching” was too weak. “Looming” maybe? Still not right. “Prowling,” yes. “Stalking” sounded even more like it.

He tore off his sunglasses to reveal a stark pair of blue eyes, unabashedly roaming over her body with a heat that made her swallow. He kept coming at her, invading her personal space without compunction. Reflexively, she retreated. He smiled, then did it again and again—until her back hit the wall.

“Hi, beautiful.”

Mercy, the low rumble of his voice was sexy. Her knees quaked.

“Hi.” She breathed the word as if she couldn’t quite catch her breath.

He looked her up and down, obviously scoping her out. “Hmm, you with all those curves, and me here with no breaks . . . Damn!”