About the Book
Red. The color of extremes.
Tate Conrad’s existence is annihilated. Destroyed by two men: one, her hero and the other, her worst nightmare. She has nothing to lose.
Determined to survive, vengeance feeds her. There are no limits, no boundaries, not even death, in seeking liberation.
Rylan Wolfe is driven. A stellar FBI agent close to breaking the case of a lifetime. It’s more than career-making, it’s personal. Tate’s the linchpin to it all. They need each other to succeed.
For Tate, is he her salvation or ruin?
We’re alone. At last. Still facing the door, her back to me, she rests her head on the wood. Gently grasping her upper arms, I twirl her to face me, her back now against the door. She sucks in her breath and her eyes widen in surprise.
"Let go of me,” she hisses. My hold’s not hard or painful, but firm. No matter how hard she tries, she isn’t going anywhere. Her futile attempts unleash a deep pink along her neck and cheeks, matching the natural hue of her pretty lips. Her flushed agitation ratchets my desire.
My arousal lengthens and hardens, as I lift both her arms above her head, gently clamping her wrists with my left hand. I brace my hips against hers. The slight ‘O’ of her lips signals her awareness of my erection, right where it counts. I’ve got her attention. She will hear me out.
Our proximity is intoxicatingly dangerous. I can’t resist her. Her flawless, creamy flesh has been screaming, all night, to be touched by me. The knuckles of my right hand softly caress her jaw from her ear to chin. Unable to stop there, the pad of my thumb runs along her lower lip and then gently presses down on the center of her plump lip.
"Listen to me,” I slowly and deliberately thrust my hips, grinding her core. Gasping, she sinks her teeth lightly into my thumb. Jackpot. Her eyes on me. Her warm, wet tongue swirls around the top of my thumb, tasting and teasing me. It’s a struggle to keep my focus. The little minx. I growl.
“Tonight’s been all around shitty. I wish I could’ve told you about Gia, I mean Nina Hale, before showing up with her tonight. She's my partner."
She noticeably freezes, her teeth now viciously biting my thumb. Completely caught by surprise, I thrust once more into her core. A breathy moan escapes her lips. Her teeth free my thumb. I release her lip.
Two bright red teeth marks line the top of my thumb. It should piss me off. It doesn’t, in fact, it does the exact opposite. She’s marked me. Claimed me. I’m hers. She’s mine. The thought shoots a wave of hot desire down my spine, straight into my already tight balls. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to survive this woman.
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About S.M. West
Born on the shortest day and longest night of the year, Winter Solstice, she's a self-professed night owl. From a young age, creating stories and conjuring characters was always one of her favorite pastimes.
She loves a great story with romance and intrigue, a strong heroine and fiercely passionate hero with passion, intensity and edge.
If she's not writing or reading, she's planning her next adventure, spending time with her family or drinking a great glass of wine and indulging in chocolate.