Skip to the Good Part 2: 20 Authors Reveal Their Steamiest Scenes Page 3

  She nodded, her bottom lip dragging over his. “I won’t say another word. Totally silent.”

  Rocco tore her shirt straight down the middle. Its fabric ripped, and the sound echoed in her ears. He chuckled, cavern deep. “I didn’t say that.”

  He devoured her neck. His massive hand cupped her breast, thumb toying with her nipple and sending a whirlwind of sensation cycloning from the tip to the farthest reaches of her nervous system. Every nerve. Every synapse. They danced and fired and shouted in insane excitement.

  “I want to hear you. Feel you. That hot little attitude of yours, I’m dying for it to come out and play.”

  “Por supuesto.” Of course.

  “Don’t know what you said, Kitten. But damn, that’s hot.”

  Nothing about this was sweet. It was rough, and it was what she wanted. Rough hands. Rough mouth. Rough can’t-get-enough-of-you sex.

  She arched off the bed, and his kisses trailed to her other mound. He sucked deep into his mouth, rolling his tongue and growling. An earthquake of reactions nearly blew her mind. Skin shivering. Pussy begging. Mind tumbling so fast and hard for Rocco that she didn’t know which way was like and which way was lust.

  “Roc.” They were moving fast, exchanging real rings with pretend meanings, but she’d take it. His hips flexed, and she met his move. “Take your shorts off.”

  “You first, Kitten.” His lips tickled her nipple. Gasoline to her fire.

  His hips shifted, and her body’s begging and pleading magnified. She shucked her pants, grabbing his along the way. Made her giggle, made him smile. Made for the perfect moment.

  They were naked. Tangled. Hot flesh and wild need. The stalk of his erection was far past impressive, hot and in her hand. She stroked her fingers down to his balls, letting her other hand trail.

  “First time I saw you, I wanted this,” he growled.

  She nodded because she was choking down the same thought and so much more, scared it would make him run. Again. And then she might kill him.

  He grabbed his wallet from the nightstand drawer, found a condom, and slid it on.

  Smoothing his hands over her folds, he teased the nub of nerves with a stroke of his knuckles. “You are so damn sweet.”

  Why sweet? She was anything but. Hard-shelled. Hot-headed. And when he looked at her like that, touched her without slamming into her, Caterina believed him. They would do both wild and unrestrained, but they could rock a moment that might just qualify as special. He ran both hands down her thigh, cupping behind her knee and angling it, dragging the heel of her foot back. Rocco leaned over and kissed the knee, sliding her other leg up.

  Exposed to him, she fought for contact, but Rocco simply slid his hands down her thighs, watching her face. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

  Heat flooded her face.

  “You don’t think you’re all that sweet, do ya, Kitten?”

  “I have my moments.”

  He laughed and she grabbed him around his neck, pulling close, chest to chest. One of his hands clamped to her bottom, squeezing the cheek, making her back buck. The hot steel of his cock positioned, pushing and parting. Her nerve endings screamed, and spectacular sensations wicked from her core to her clit.

  “Sweet, sweet.” He buried his face into her neck, biting and scratching her skin while he stretched into her body, joining them.

  Breaths stolen, her mind spinning, Caterina bit her bottom lip and let him take her. “Dios.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Her mouth parted. She moaned, “Rocco.”

  Pressure and perfect pain. It’d been so long since she’d felt this. She wanted to groan and growl, shout his name and beg him to fuck her, but it came out a desperate hush.

  He paused. A ragged breath tore from his chest as he retracted only a fraction and eased into her again. Biceps crushed her to the wall of his rock hard stomach.

  She forgot the world in his strength. “I need this.”

  “I need you.”

  Vibrations buzzed across her skin, and she rocked her hips, rubbing herself against him and experiencing every thick thrust. She came alive for him. Slickness coated his shaft, her juices heightening the sensations. Her mind memorized the deepness in his eyes, the concentration and determination playing across his features.

  They locked eyes, and vicious tension clawed just beneath her skin. She nodded, agreeing. And that was it. He dropped her back against the mattress, diving deeper into her sex, filling her when she thought fullness had long been achieved. Caterina pushed her head back, moaning as Rocco thundered into her. Her body flowed with him. They were a frenzied mix of penetrating, panting, cursing, and crying out for more. Relief and release seemed too far away. He pulled back, on his knees, grabbing her legs and spreading her wider. The dedication in his jaw was too powerful not to notice.

  He lifted her ass off the bed, shoved a pillow behind her tail bone without missing his stride, and—oh hell, that angle…

  She cried his name. Sucked in oxygen and savored the passion, the picture, everything before her. His chest was massive. Defined. His broad shoulders were enough to support a tank. Taut skin covered perfect abs. Sculpted. Muscles bunched and corded. Rocco thrust into her again, deeper, until possession was no longer a question.

  “Yes,” she ground out the word, ready to repeat the truth. Sweet bliss started. Thinking about him, them, this … that would make her come.

  “Caterina.” He sucked her name through his clenched teeth.

  She didn’t recognize herself. Losing control had never happened, but now it was. Rocco met her stroke for stroke. The bastard would kill her with pleasure, she was sure of it, but she’d die happy. This was too good to just do once. She’d live to fall in bed with him again. It was a promise to herself.

  “Roc.” She couldn’t catch her breath. Didn’t want to try. Breathing was for wimps. This was the major leagues, and if she was going to survive, it had nothing to do with oxygen. “Help me.” Breath. “Hold me. Push me over the edge.”

  His jaw worked. Resolve painted across his face. Sweat beaded on his forehead as her juices wept from her, coating both of them.

  “So close.” Her fingernails ripped into the sheets.

  His hips pistoned, driving until she couldn’t see. Fireworks exploded behind her eyes, between her thighs. Her muscles tightened until … she combusted, rippling over his cock. Pulsing. Tensing. Extraordinary flashes of satisfaction blew through her veins, and when she thought it wouldn’t last another second, when she was too sensitive to be touched, Rocco slowed his roll and kissed her through the amazing intensity. His head rolled to the side, dropped back, then he inhaled, expanding his chest wider than she thought possible. Slowly, he brought his gaze back to her and lowered himself down, his face mere inches from hers. “I need you close to me.”

  She nodded; she might’ve been crying, might’ve been cursing. She didn’t know what she was doing.

  “Let me hold you close.” The tinge of sadness in his voice brought her back to his arms.

  Her heart clenched. There was something about that gravelly, forsaken sound. “Rocco?”

  He shushed her with a kiss. Soft, again. Back to where they’d started. He was wounded, though he’d never tell. Required loving and caring, but he’d never ask. She knew that about him, just like she’d known who he was when she first set eyes on him on that bench weeks ago. And right now, she knew that the couldn’t-wait-another-second frenzy had morphed into a couldn’t-crave-you-more-than-now dance.

  Rocco’s chest pressed against hers. A fine mist of sweat kissed their skin. Her legs wrapped around him, then her arms did the same, hugging and holding onto all the power and strength that made him loom so large. His hips rocked her slowly over and over. The intense, overwhelming fullness short-circuited her brain until all she could think, see, and believe in was them. Her tongue explored his skin. His saltiness seared her taste buds, and the sweetness of the man holding her stole her heart.

/>   “Damn, you are amazing,” he whispered into her ear.

  Amazing?

  Her? Not really.

  Them? Absolutely.

  His body swallowed hers; his embrace all-consuming, so powerful and delicate. Easing and penetrating, slow and steady, thrusts that made her mind desperate for their interlude to both last for hours and demand relief, again.

  “Roc.” Shivers swirled over her sweat-dampened skin. All she could do was repeat his name. And beg.

  “What do you want, Kitten? Tell me what you need.” His teeth scratched her neck and chipped away at her sanity. Rough hands swayed over her back, cupped her ass. She could feel him all over.

  “This. You.” Their passion flooded her. “I want nothing more than you—” Handsome.

  She almost said it. Almost did it again, where she showed her hand and told him the things she was keeping to herself. Like the tattoos.

  His mouth took her, languidly. Tongues dancing and dueling. He kissed the side of her mouth, her cheek.

  Drowning in his scent, succumbing to emotion she would never admit to, Caterina embraced another incoming climax, wanting nothing more than for him to come with her. Waves of pleasure hit them both. His hips surged. With spastic thrusts, he shuddered, holding her to him. A heavenly second of watching him completely lost in her was all she needed to come again. Lost in a dream of what a normal life could be, she memorized the feel of his arms and pretended he was her lover, not her partner. The idea was entirely too tempting.

  Read more from Cristin Harber’s novel Savage Secrets (Titan, #6). She also invites you to subscribe to her mailing list for alerts on new releases and to find her on Facebook.

  About Savage Secrets (Titan, #6)…

  Caterina Cruz has no home. No loyalties. No objection to exacting torturous revenge. Her life’s mission is to destroy the terrorist who murdered her family. Then she steps into an elaborate game of charades alongside a Titan Group operative posing as an arms dealer—and her newlywed husband. The sexy distraction may be more than she can handle.

  Attacked with a psychedelic drug weeks before, Rocco Savage is plagued with hallucinations that threaten his new rank as Titan’s second-in-command. No one knows and he wants to keep it that way. Throwing him further off his game, he now has a wife with her own secrets he can’t crack and an agenda he can’t control.

  Their mission—an elaborate deception of heated glances and passionate kisses—spins out of control. With Rocco's mind already compromised, can he keep his secret and his distance? And with Caterina's tragic past controlling her every move, can she keep the con up long enough to secure her revenge? Or will both go down in flames?

  About Cristin Harber…

  Cristin Harber is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling romance author. She writes sexy, steamy romantic suspense and military romance. Fans voted her onto Amazon's Top Picks for Debut Romance Authors in 2013, and her debut Titan series was both a #1 romantic suspense and #1 military romance bestseller.

  Each book can be read as a standalone (except for the prequel) but readers will likely best enjoy the series in order.

  The Titan Series:

  Book 1: Winters Heat

  Book 1.5: Sweet Girl

  Book 2: Garrison's Creed

  Book 3: Westin's Chase

  Book 4: Gambled

  Book 5: Chased

  Book 6: Savage Secrets

  Book 7: Hart Attack

  Book 8: Black Dawn- releases 2015

  The Delta Series:

  Book 1: Delta: Retribution

  Book 2: Delta: Revenge- releases 2015

  Insidious

  Tales From the Dark Side, #1

  Aleatha Romig

  This “Skip to the Good Part” scene is from Chapter 4 of Insidious. Earlier in this scene Victoria Conway arrived at the penthouse of the wealthy Stewart Harrington. While she was unaware of what was in store for her, she soon learned that Stewart was very persuasive when it came to getting what he wanted.

  “Vic-tor-ia,” Stewart said, standing and drawing out the three syllables. “I wouldn’t be offering you this opportunity if I hadn’t had you thoroughly investigated. I know everything there is to know about you. I can’t have a wife with skeletons in her closet.”

  “I’m not marrying you.”

  Coming closer, his words slowed. “Because a studio apartment and minimum wage is better than living between this penthouse and my estate just outside the city limits? Or because you don’t want to help your sister?”

  What did he know about my sister? Val meant everything to me. I would do anything for my younger sister. After all, it wasn’t like our parents cared. We were all each other had. Keeping my eyes away from Stewart’s smug expression, I asked, “What do you know about my sister?” Before he could respond, I walked toward the windows; the ocean was rough with white-capped waves glistening out toward the horizon.

  Stewart’s voice came from behind me, his tone steadfast in his knowledge. “I know everything about both of you. I know everything about your no-good stepfather, your mother, and their spoiled boys. I even know about your biological father.”

  Tears unexpectedly filled my eyes. Despite my better judgment I turned back toward this man who had many more answers than I imagined. “I haven’t heard from him, ever. My mother said he hasn’t contacted her since Val was little. What do you know about him?”

  Grasping my shoulders, his large hands ignited my skin as his knowledge and power flowed through his touch. For just a split second, concern showed in the depths of his blue eyes. “I know he doesn’t need to be your concern.” Maintaining his grip, he continued, “Now, to your other questions. I know that Valerie won’t be able to stay at the academy for her senior year of high school nor will her post-high-school education be paid. I know that you have every reason to hate your parents, and perhaps you do, but you don’t hate their boys, your half-brothers. I know you don’t want them to lose their home and very likely their parents.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Those men to whom Randall owes the money—they won’t accept less than payment in full. If they don’t get it soon, Randall’s life will pacify them for a short time. It’ll appear like an accident, but it will happen. How do you think your mother will handle that? Do you really want to be responsible for his life?”

  Did I? It wouldn’t be the first life I’d been blamed for taking, yet would it end at Randall? Did I care? Did I care if my mother drank herself into oblivion? I didn’t know. Then again, what about Marcus and Lyle? What about Val? What would happen to them?

  “Stewart, I don’t even know you...” my words trailed away as I turned back to the window. Randall and my mother could dive into the ocean as far as I was concerned, but the boys? They’re still so young … and Val? One more year before her future can begin. It was too much—too much to comprehend.

  Fighting the emotional overload, I closed my eyes and tried to grasp what had just happened. As I did, Stewart’s warmth alerted me that he was directly behind me. With my overwrought nerves, I startled when his hands brushed my arms.

  “Victoria...” Stewart’s voice resonated deeper, more breathy. “You’re beautiful. I’ve had time to consider this agreement. I have to admit, as I’ve watched you for the last few weeks, my anticipation at getting to know you has increased. You’re truly astounding: so strong despite the lack of support you’ve been offered.” His hands continued to brush my arms in a ghostly caress.

  “But I don’t know you. I don’t love you.”

  His voice echoed near my ear, each word closer than the last. “You will get to know me.”

  I began to turn toward him, to stop the uneasy feelings his proximity spurred, when he stopped me, his tenor leaving no room for compromise. “Don’t turn around.”

  Involuntarily I shuddered at his command.

  “Put your hands on the window. Let me see those pretty little fingers.”

  I’d never heard a man speak with such u
nquestioning authority. Obediently, I splayed my fingers on the cool glass, thankful that I’d left my purse on the sofa. Caging me within his arms, his hands came to rest beside mine. The contrast in size was as startling as his deep voice as it exhaled breathily onto my neck.

  “I’m sure you’re concerned about our age difference. Let me reassure you, I’ve taken good care of myself. That’s the thing: most women my age haven’t. As I said before, I have preferences, things I like and things I don’t.”

  One hand disappeared from sight, and soon brushed the side of my right breast. Sucking in a gasp, I closed my eyes. Why was I allowing this? I should scream or run.

  His head dipped to my shoulder as a shudder went through me and a new sensation stirred within me. “Victoria, I like that strength I mentioned. I like that even though you don’t know me, you’ve been honest with me about your family. I like that you haven’t left these negotiations and are considering this agreement. I like that from this view I can see your hard nipples beading under that black dress. I like that you didn’t turn around when I told you not to, and I like that you’re aroused.”

  “I’m not,” I lied, as the unusual feelings made my core clench. It made no sense. I didn’t know this man, didn’t want this man, yet his mere words were doing something to me.

  The hand that had brushed my breast came back up and slipped down the front of my dress. As I gasped and began to turn, his deep voice stopped my movement. “I said to keep your hands on the window. I didn’t give you permission to move. Did I?”

  When I failed to respond, his fingers found my nipple and rolled the hard nub, in a painful twist. “Victoria, I asked you a question. Answer me, or I’ll need to get your attention another way.”