The Wild Things Series #2, Standalone
Genre: Contemporary Romance
— SYNOPSIS —
Perhaps some promises should be broken….
Theophile
The price of freedom was as simple as a promise. Fifteen more years in jail or a marriage. I agreed and didn’t look back, until the circus came to town.
Wolfgang
Leaving England behind for a small town in Wisconsin meant two more years of freedom for my family, which is my everything. And then I met Theophile, an irresistibly intriguing woman whose heart I will claim, regardless of the fact that she made a promise to one of the greediest and wealthiest men on earth: my father.
A deeply moving, gripping modern day fairytale about a spirited woman whose scruples are tested when her life is turned upside down by a larger-than-life candy heir and his eccentric circus family. A gut-wrenching, sweet and magical read filled with humor, tragedy and a cast of endearing characters that will steal your heart.
I grimace and squirm. My acting skills need a brush-up. He is pure fucking fire.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” I ask.
“The man you want in your bed all night long.” His voice dips low, to an almost dangerous tone.
“You are—”
He places two fingers on my lips, shushing me. His dimples sink, shocking my heart and tangling my lady parts up. He cups his jaw with one hand and I back away, stumbling. He tips his head and a roar of sinister laughter storms out. A wave of heat rushes through me, my cheeks burning. I should run.
Into his arms.
No—away.
“You are the cockiest, filthiest man I’ve ever met.” And, oh my god, I want you.
He steps toward me, and why my feet betray me by staying put when I will them to move confuses me as much as the way my heart is cartwheeling.
“Once we fuck, you’ll add sweetest to that list. I promise.”
I’ll bet you do. Promise.
I swallow over a dry patch when he saunters behind me, pressing against me with an obvious erection. I take an unsteady gulp of air when he moves my hair aside, his hot breath causing my skin to prickle.
It’s not that I haven’t had my share of one-night stands with guys whose last names I didn’t know afterwards. But that was sex. Plain and simple. No butterflies, goose bumps, or heart-racing reactions accompanied those circumstances. Those guys might have been cute, but they could never compare to Wolfgang.
He slides his hands up my skirt, onto my bare thighs. What am I doing? Oh god, his hands. Hot and travelling across my skin on a mission. Please don’t stop. I won’t get in your way. I close my eyes and suck my bottom lip when he grips handfuls of my ass.
“Your heart is pounding,” he whispers. “I feel it against my chest. And, since you’re not running from me, that must mean you want this.”
“Wolfgang, what are you doing?”
He feathers the insides of my thighs, his fingertips playing my skin in tender sweeps. I moan—god help me. I’m certain I hear him say, “Hand it over—your heart.” Unless it was my heart saying that to my brain, which has disengaged from any form of logic.
“Don’t be afraid of me.” His hands ride across the band of my underwear, and he stops at my hip bones, lingering then easing my underwear down an inch. “Life is short.” Lips feather my ear. “Live the opera.”
“This is…” Ludicrous. Obscene. Sexy. A stranger touching me so well, so…
God, is he confident.
“Wolfgang,” I groan. A mating call.
He answers, a rich, fuck-me-now noise that rumbles against my back. As boneless as jelly, I drop my head backward, my nose tickled by a sweep of his hair. He kicks my legs apart, and, in anticipation, I edge them open even more.
“You’re meadows and all the flowers adorning them.” His voice is quiet but overflowing with passion and need. “I want to smell you, taste you…climb inside you.”
— GIVEAWAY! —
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