Thursday, April 9, 2015

Full Contact by Sarah Castille

Title: Full Contact
Author: Sarah Castille
Series: Redemption #3
Genre: Adult, Erotica, Romance
Release Date: April 7, 2015
When you can’t resist the one person who could destroy you…

Sia O’Donnell can’t help but push the limits. She secretly attends every underground MMA fight featuring The Predator, the undisputed champion. When he stalks his prey in the ring, Sia is mesmerized. He is dominant and dangerous and every instinct tells her to run.

Every beautiful thing Ray “The Predator” touches he knows he’ll eventually destroy. Soft, sweet and innocent, Sia is the light to Ray’s darkness-and completely irresistible. From the moment he lays eyes on her, he knows he’s going to have to put his dark past behind him to win her body and soul.

     His gaze drops to my lips, and I am suddenly and painfully aware of his body pressed tightly against mine, his arms around me, and his heartbeat quickening, as if it’s oblivious to the fact the danger has passed. I’ve never been this close to him, never seen his eyes so dark, never imagined I would feel the power thrumming through his body. Because aren’t predators supposed to kill?
     Unspent adrenaline screams through my veins, turning my legs liquid. I ache with a desire I shouldn’t feel. A painful, desperate hunger for a man I should not want—a man whose violent nature both arouses and frightens me.
     “Ray...” His name is a whispered plea on my lips.
     He threads his hand through my hair, tugging my head back so hard my eyes tear, but I have never felt such pleasure in pain.
     “Christ. I’m barely in control as it is.”
     A soft moan escapes my lips. I am hot—so hot, I might combust— and before I can stop myself, I rock up, thread my hands through his hair, and touch my lips to his in a gentle kiss.
     Ray stiffens and growls, the sound vibrating through my chest. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding between my lips to explore every inch of my mouth. My heart speeds to double time, but it is the way he holds me still—one hand tangled in my hair, his other hand firm around my back—that sends a wave of liquid heat through my veins. His lips are firm and demanding, forcing my mouth open as his tongue plunges deeper, stroking me into oblivion. Possessive. Demanding. Unyielding. A Predator’s kiss.
     Sliding my hands over his magnificent chest, taut and hard, and then along his broad shoulders, I drink him in with a never-ending thirst. Hot and hungry, my tongue tangles with his, questing, seeking, wanting more as I grind my hips against his thigh in an entirely uncharacteristic display of need.
     My actions inflame him. In one smooth movement, he spins us and backs me into the cold, brick wall. His arm tightens so hard I can barely breathe. And then he ravages my mouth, his tongue questing deep, as if he has lost control and the beast within will settle for nothing less than devouring me.
     I have never really, truly been kissed.
     Until now.
     I feel him with every inch of my skin, every breath I take. My breasts ache for his touch, my clit throbs for his attention, and my heart pounds in warning.
     But when I moan into his mouth, he tenses and pulls away. “Condition I’m in’s like after a fight...I got no gentleness in me.”
     Bloodlust. The aftereffect of a fight. The edge of control. But I have watched Ray for so long, lusted after him for so many nights, imagined I was the one in the ring pinned to the mat, I do the unthinkable and lean up and nip his lip. Hard.

     “I’m going to undress you. Don’t think about me. Don’t think about what scares you. Think about that canvas and what you’re going to paint. Think about the brush in your hand. The colors on your palate. Think about what inspires you. Think of something you can’t do in ink. Then do it for me.”
     As he talks, his hands glide over my rib cage, his calluses sending sensual shivers across my skin.      He presses his thumbs along either side of my spine, rubbing deep concentric circles, easing my tension as his fingers stroke the sides of my breasts. Such a feeling of warmth and contentment suffuses me that I lean back against him, only to have him growl a warning in my ear.
     “I haven’t even started.”
     My body tingles. “Is that a promise?”
     “You play nice, it could be a reward.” His subtle assurance warms me to my toes. He may be a predator, but he has soft fur.
     With slow, gentle movements, he unzips my skirt and eases it down over my hips. Cool air brushes over my heated skin, like the wind on my face when I’m on his motorcycle. But even with that happy image in my head, a familiar tension rolls through my body. My breaths come out in pants, and I tremble.
     “Use it,” Ray whispers. “Let it out. I’ve got you.”
     Heart pounding, muscles coiled tight, I grab my brush, dip into the oil, and streak black across the middle of the canvas. The first stroke is always almost orgasmic, the realization of a vision, desire exposed. But this time it is my fear splashed across the canvas, a black streak marring the pristine white surface, the memory of a night I have wished a thousand times had never been. A sob rips from my throat and I drop my brush.
     “Shhhh.” With a low growl, Ray runs his hands along my curves, and my breathing hitches.
     Damn Luke. Damn that night. I’m going to turn my fear into some- thing beautiful. Gritting my teeth, I lift my brush and the black streak becomes a wheel, two, and then I join them with a band of red.
     “Fuck.” Ray pinches my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, his chest warm, hard against my back, his belt buckle a deliciously pleasant pain on my skin.
     “Watching you paint is fucking hot.”
     PTSD crisis averted, I manage a smile. “Might be your hands on my breasts is what’s making you hot.”
     He grinds his hips into my ass, his erection stiff between us. “Touching you makes me hard. Watching you makes me hot.”
     Gray for the chrome, more red for the fairing, abstract strokes but my brain can’t fill in the detail with Ray’s fingers grazing the bare skin of my abdomen.
     “I can’t paint anymore.”
     “You can.” He cups my sex from behind, spreading his fingers, easing my legs apart. “You will.”

Author Bio:
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, Sarah Castille, writes contemporary erotic romance and romantic suspense featuring blazingly hot alpha heroes and the women who tame them. A recovering lawyer and caffeine addict, she worked and traveled abroad before trading her briefcase and stilettos for a handful of magic beans and a home near the Canadian Rockies.


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