In Jennifer Probst’s sizzling next book, Searching for Always, yoga aficionado and general zen-master Arilyn Kennedy’s newest pupil is Officer Stone Petty, and she’s determined to make this hothead learn how to keep his cool. But when things start heating up between them, Arilyn might just find that she’s the one having difficulty staying in control.
“I have a proposition,” he drawled. “One kiss. Let’s prove to each other we’d be a disaster together.”
“I don’t need a kiss to confirm you’d be a nightmare to deal with,” she shot back. “You’re an ex-smoker, workaholic, anger-ridden, meat eater cynic.”
His fingers moved to caress her cheek, the line of her jaw, up to her temple. Little brushes of tenderness, contradicting the raw strength and power in those hands and body. Ready to crush her but choosing gentleness. The lust rolled over her in waves, and she fought back with all her power.
“And you’re a tree-hugging, naïve, post-world hippie with a God complex,” he retorted. “Vegetarian, to boot. Plus a hardened criminal.”
Arilyn growled under her breath and dug her nails into his shoulders with fierceness. “You know nothing about me, Officer! I am not naïve.”
“Stone. Now shut up.”
His mouth took hers.
She planned to fight back and give him everything she got.
And she did, but not in the way she planned.
The moment those blistering-hot, soft lips met hers, she lost it. Swamped by the delicious scent and taste and feel of him, she arched upward and opened her mouth for more. He muttered something dark and dirty, and slid his tongue past her parted lips and beyond.
Then he showed her who was boss.
Oh, he kissed her with all the hard passion and lust she always dreamed about but never inspired. With her past lovers, she got tender, slow lovemaking, and poetic words murmured in her ear. Moves were coordinated like a beautiful song, and though she was satisfied, and emotionally full, there was an ache deep in her body that never felt completely fulfilled.
She’d thought something was wrong with her and happily ignored that part of herself.
Stone Petty owned her. Possessed her. His tongue took what he wanted and demanded it all, with each thrust and complete deflowering of her mouth. He reached around and sunk his fingers into her hair, tugging her head back to expose her throat and keep her helpless beneath him. Her breasts pressed against his hard chest, his erection notched between her open thighs, and he ravished her body and soul, leaving nothing behind but an aching, horrible want for more.
She exploded with her own demands, turning the kiss into something much more. Whimpering, she opened her mouth wider, arched her body up to rock against his hardness, and dug her short nails into his scalp.
“You taste so good,” he muttered, biting and sucking on her lower lip. “Like sugar cookies. I want to spread you out, taste you, eat you until you come apart.”
His dirty words caused a rush of liquid warmth to trickle between her legs. “Oh, God, this is bad,” she gasped, clinging tighter. “Very bad.”
“And so good.” He ground his erection against her, bumped her clit, and she shuddered, writhing to get closer. “Need more.” He ripped his mouth from hers, grabbed the stretchy halter top, and pulled it down to bare her breasts.
She wasn’t wearing a bra.
“I just died and went to heaven,” he groaned, his hands cupping her breasts and rubbing her tight nipples. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out, especially when he plucked at her, watching her tortured face as if to see what she liked. “You’re like butter and cream, silky smooth. Peach nipples, just like I thought. How do they taste?”
“No, don’t, I don’t think — oh!”
His lips opened over one aching tip, his tongue swiping over and over, nibbling on her like a feast. She drowned in a tidal wave of sensation, her brain shut down, her body exploding on overload like a bad circuit firing up.
Her past seductions consisted of scented candles, romantic verses read aloud, and the taste of Champagne. Silken sheets turned down. Long, endlessly orchestrated scenes that she always dreamed she wanted.
Now she realized how they’d barely scratched the surface of her need. Right now, she wanted to push Stone Petty on the ground, climb on top of him, and sink down until he slid deep inside her. She wanted to get sweaty, be loud and take pleasure on her terms, with nothing holding her back. With a man who wasn’t afraid to be rough, and demanding, and bad.
“I want you. Now. Here.” He looked up, his mouth wet, eyes fierce and so filled with hunger she began to shake. “You want it, too.”
But she couldn’t.
About the author: Jennifer Probst’s novels, novellas and ebooks range from sexy contemporary romance to erotica. She lives in upstate New York. For more about this multitalented New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author, visit JenniferProbst.com.