Fireworks result when a strong-willed woman asks for the help of a sinfully sexy man with a dark past of his own. Keep reading to get a tempting taste of Spitfire in Love by Isabelle Ronin, then start counting down the days until this book releases on May 28th. In honor of this third installment in the Red series make sure to fill out the form below for the chance to win 1 of 3 prize packs featuring the books in this series too!
She's never at a loss for words.
He's determined to have the last one.
There he was with his piercing blue eyes and Lucifer black hair.
He was leaning against the wall, a lollipop in his mouth, hot as hell and twice as dangerous.
Kara Hawthorne never backs down, especially when it comes to protecting her family.
She looked so soft, harmless, like a pretty kitten, but she was as safe as a ticking time bomb.
My sweet, sweet Spitfire.
Cameron St. Laurent isn't intimidated by the feisty woman at his doorstep. And when she asks him for the impossible, Cameron knows just how to sweeten the deal...
The two combustible personalities are faced with unavoidable off-the-charts chemistry. But when Cam's dark past shows up, he'll have to slay his demons and lay himself on the line to win Kara, body and soul.
Cameron’s blue eyes were even deeper, somehow more intense, in the muted glow of the light. They were patient as he followed Dylan to the front door—no, not patient. They were waiting. Anticipating what was to come.
I heard my brother’s footsteps and Cameron’s, then the click of the lock.
The echo it made in the room was as loud and heavy with meaning as a declaration of war.
Then those eyes, with those deep-blue irises, shifted to mine.
Conquer me, they challenged, before I conquer you.
It was bait.
And I wanted to bite.
I curled my hands into fists and instinctively stepped back, stopping when the back of my knees hit the couch.
The effect he had on me was undeniable, and I didn’t care for it. I didn’t like the way I felt defenseless around him, how he could strip away my reasoning just by looking at me.
As if he heard my thoughts, his lips, slowly and deliberately, formed into a smile.
I got you, his smile said, exactly where I want you.
Strength and controlled power showed in every movement of his body as I watched him cross the room toward me. His body was big and sleek, like a stealthy cat roaming the jungle, patient and hungry.
My eyes took in the long lines of his arms, the ripple of muscles, the veins that stood out like cords, his thick wrist. Every part disciplined, tight, and masculine.
He stopped in front of me.
“Kara.” He whispered my name. His voice was deep and rich, and my name sounded and felt so carnal coming from his lips. “Tell me why you’re here.”
I tried to answer. God knows I tried, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. It felt so easy, so sinful, like a soft, silky feather stroking my skin, to give in. Let someone else take control for once. No, not just someone. It had to be him. I closed my eyes in defense. I was losing, and surprisingly, I didn’t seem to mind. Was this what it felt like to want? To need?
The air was thick with tension, and I felt it shift before his fingers stroked the inside of my wrist. Once, twice. Then it was gone.
My lips opened a fraction, letting out a sharp breath. An expulsion, a way my body dealt with the surging desire in the aftermath of his touch.
Or maybe, maybe, it was a silent demand for more.
“Open your eyes,” he said softly.
I kept them closed.
“Kara.” His voice was soft as velvet, coaxing. “Look at me.”
But what would happen if I did?
This was something I’d never felt or experienced before. I’d never been this close to anyone nor had I wanted to be.
I was teetering between two worlds—the one where I would stay the same if I stepped away from him now, and the other one where the world I knew would end and change to something unfamiliar.
Which one would I choose?
I always put others before me. Responsibilities, commitments, family. When was the last time I did something just for the hell of it?
I opened my eyes. And stared right into the blue of his.
He was ruthlessly beautiful. The straight, dark brows, the deep-set eyes, the long, straight nose, the full lips. And all that beauty framed by soft, black hair.
I had thought he looked like a dark archangel when I first laid eyes on him. I still did.
He was as deep and dark as a cave, and I was standing right at his entrance. Should I go in or leave?
I made up my mind.
His lips parted in surprise as the my finger slowly traced his collarbone, marveling at the warmth of his skin, at the smoothness of it. I thought I’d be satisfied just by feeling it, but I wanted to do more.
His muscles tensed as I moved my fingers to the long line of his neck, rubbing the stubble on his jaw, tickling myself.
I smiled but didn’t say anything. I usually had a lot to say, but I wasn’t myself right now. I was different when I was with him. I felt more beautiful, more aware of myself as a woman.
The pulse at the base of his throat jumped as I focused on his lips and continued my exploration there. They were full, pink, with a prominent Cupid’s bow.
Suddenly, he opened his mouth and caught my finger between his lips, between his teeth, then with his tongue. And sucked.
I gasped, my eyes snapping to his as I snatched my finger away, feeling like my whole body was on fire.
There was so much emotion raging inside me. My skin prickled. I felt hot, itchy, needy. I wanted…more. Just more.
“You’re driving me fucking crazy,” he whispered. His voice was husky, more than a hint of frustration in it.
Where every move before had been disciplined, he now radiated restless energy. It felt like having a big, edgy cat in a small cage.
His eyes grew heavy, hungry. “I’m waiting for you to run away,” he said quietly.
When I didn’t reply, his arms fell dejectedly to his sides.
“I don’t want you to.”
I bit my lip at his confession. He made me feel wanted. That I shouldn’t deny myself what I wanted. Even just for this moment.
The way he looked at me felt like heat gliding across my skin. Hot, palpable, alluring.
He looked so good, so unapologetically male.
I looked up at him. He held his hand out to me, palm up.
“Come here,” he said huskily.
As if in a trance, I placed my hand in his. His hand was wide, with long, tapered fingers, and rough, with calluses and scrapes. A working man’s hand. A capable, strong, gorgeous man.
My eyes shifted to his. There was a delicious hot curl in my stomach at the approval and hunger I saw in his eyes.
He kissed my palm and placed it on his chest. His hands banded on my hips, his fingers pressing intimately, possessively, as he sprawled on the couch, pulling me to him and settling me on his lap.
I gasped as our bodies made contact, as I straddled him. He was wide, and God, so big that my legs stretched to accommodate him.
Up close, he was even more beautiful. Almost unreal. His features were perfect, his skin creamy and smooth.
His hands slipped under my sweater, fingers stroking the skin on my lower back. I shivered at the delicious rough texture of them.
When his lips touched my ear, I jumped. He let out a deep, low laugh.
Butterflies whirled in my stomach at the sound. Even his laugh was sexy.
“Can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured.
He dragged his lips from my ear to my jaw, inhaling long and deep. My hands gripped his arms, waiting, wanting him to keep going, wanting to feel what was going to happen next.
His hands left my back, gliding up my arms, gently securing both sides of my neck. His thumbs stroked the hollow of my throat. My head fell back as I savored his touch. Back and forth and back and forth on my pulse that had gone mad.
He leaned forward until his lips were almost touching the side of my mouth. Almost.
“Kara,” he whispered. “Won’t you kiss me?”
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