Title: Sinful Rewards 12
Series: A Billionaires and Bikers Novella
By: Cynthia Sax
Releasing June 16, 2015
Publisher Avon Red Impulse
“A YEAR OF SIZZLING HOT SAX”
THE SEXIEST 12 MONTH SERIAL: SINFUL REWARDS
The thrilling conclusion to the Billionaires and Bikers series!
One tiny mistake turns Bee Carter’s worst fears into a terrifying reality. She knows she isn’t alone. The sexy, honorable man she adores stands by her side, willing to sacrifice his freedom to ease her concerns.
But she yearns for more than he is offering. She wants a partner who will love her as fiercely as she loves him, who will say the words and mean them, and someone who will choose her because this is what he desires more than anything else, not merely out of a misguided sense of duty.
Will saying no to the man she loves earn Bee unbearable heartache or will she finally get the forever she craves?
Link to Follow Tour: http://www.tastybooktours.com/2015/05/sinful-rewards-12-billionaires-and.html
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23261546-sinful-rewards-12?from_search=true&search_exp_group=group_b&search_version=service
Goodreads Series Link: https://www.goodreads.com/series/136907-sinful-rewards
Buy Links: Amazon | B & N | iTunes | Kobo | Publisher
USA Today bestselling author Cynthia Sax writes contemporary, SciFi and paranormal erotic romances. Her stories have been featured in Star Magazine, Real Time With Bill Maher, and numerous best of erotic romance top ten lists.
She lives in a world filled with magic and romance. Although her heroes may not always say, “I love you,” they will do anything for the women they adore. They live passionately. They play hard. They love the same women forever.
Cynthia has loved the same wonderful man forever. Her supportive hubby offers himself up to the joys and pains of research, while they travel the world together, meeting fascinating people and finding inspiration in exotic places such as Istanbul, Bali, and Chicago.
Sign up for her dirty-joke-filled release day newsletter and visit her on the web atwww.CynthiaSax.com
“Gisele makes no sense,” I repeat. “And I’m a mess.”
“You’re a hot mess.” Hawke turns me to face him. My military man is dressed in his usual hideous black T-shirt and faded blue jeans, his big feet bare are braced apart as though he’s safeguarding me from an attack. “And Gisele is a cat. They’re mysterious creatures.” His blue eyes sparkle and stubble shadows his square chin. “As are certain brown-eyed brunettes.” He brushes his scarred knuckles over my cheeks and I tremble, my body ensnared by his gentle touch.
“Yet, you understand both of us.” I gaze up at him, willing him to kiss me, caress me, take me.
“I’m in intelligence.” Hawke flexes, the barbed wire tattoo on his right bicep rippling. “And I’m a marine. We know these things.” One corner of his lips hitches higher than the other.
“Do you?” I raise my eyebrows. “Then you must also know you’re wearing too much clothing for this assignment, Marine.”
I run my hands down his cotton shirt, over his jeans’ button fly, pulling at some of the frayed threads. He hardens, pressing against the denim. I press back, cupping him, and his eyes darken.
“Belinda.” Desire edges Hawke’s voice. He dips his head and covers my lips with his. I open eagerly to him and he surges inside me, our tongues sliding seductively, tumbling in an intimate embrace. He tastes of coffee and mint, and I suck on him, drawing him deeper, swiveling my hips, seeking to be closer to him.
Hawke curves his coarse palms under my ass and lifts me higher, aligning my mons with his bulge. My feet dangle, my toes inches away from the floor. Not breaking our mind-numbing kiss, I wrap my legs around my former marine’s waist and link my ankles behind him, trusting him to hold me, to never let me fall.
He squeezes and releases my curves, squeezes and releases, setting off ripples of sexual awareness, the waves of pleasure traveling from my ass to my pussy. I grip his shoulders and rub my taut nipples against his T-shirt. The garment looks hideous but feels divine, more decadent than the finest silk. Our tongues swirl and slope playfully, my lips humming, the skin on my chin and cheeks teased by his stubble.
“You might make me a morning person,” I murmur against his mouth.
“If it was still morning, I might.” Hawke nips my bottom lip, the sharp pain exciting me. He strides across our bedroom, carrying me easily, his tread silent and smooth. My former marine passes our untidy bed, dips one of his hands in the plastic fishbowl filled with condoms, and heads toward the window.
The curtain-less window.
“It’s daylight,” I squeak. All of my previous window sexual antics were performed at night. I couldn’t view my audience, couldn’t see the faces of the men watching me.
“Tell me you don’t want this.” Hawke challenges me.
“I don’t want this.” I meet his gaze, unable to back down, trusting him to read me as he always does, to know that I do want this.
He chuckles. “You’re such a terrible liar.” He skims his lips over mine. “You crave this. I feel how wet, how hot you are.”