Author: Nina G. Jones
Genre: Erotic Suspense
Release Date: December 2, 2014
Cover Model: BJ Gaddour
I don’t know what I was thinking when I hired someone to attack me. Maybe I was bored, or lonely, or there was a void so deep inside of me that I needed something explosive to fill it.
It was supposed to be safe. A thrill. A way to break through the monotony of everyday life. It was an illusion of danger that I could walk away from as soon as it was over.
Except that it wasn’t. Because I had been in danger long before I ever invited it into my life.
My mission is almost complete. The bubbling boil of vengeance that heats my blood might finally simmer.
She is the last piece of the puzzle. Once I destroy her, everyone who ever hurt me will have paid their debt.
It was supposed to be quick and easy, but as soon as I met her it got complicated.
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This book is just what it says it is not for the faint at heart, it’s dark. You’re going to hate Tax but there is some mystery behind him and what makes him tick. He has some feelings that are driving him to make the choices he makes. Mia has been pulling herself along after losing a lot in life. She has a side most would not know her to have it craves some of the darker things in life. When she meets Tax things have you wanting to pull her aside and give her, a talking to.
I’ve always gone in to all the books I read with an open mind and know that it could bring some pretty intense feeling out. This one does and it was more than I expected. I love and hate this book. I love it because it pulls you in and makes you feel. The hate with it is some of the choice that are made by Mia, she is strong and confident in so many ways that to see her in any other way makes you hate the situation and choices she makes. I would recommend this to all that can go in with an open mind and know it going to go in to some very dark places! Very well written and told story.
I spin again to face him, and I hike my dress up just under my ass, while straddling one of his legs. His eyes are affixed on mine, like we are only two people in this crowded club. I ride his thigh, rubbing my bare pussy against him, as I lick my lips and run a hand through my hair.
My chest presses against the firmness of his torso, my nipples stiffening from the contact.
“Please, dance with me,” I beg in a mewl.
His hand threads through my hair, the other grabs my ass and pulls me up and against his thigh, applying more pressure against him.
Brick by brick.
And we move in sync: slow, rhythmic grinding. Eye to eye. Lids barely parted. Sweat beading. Low moans vanish into the air. The deafening music drowns out any conflicted feelings that remain. He tugs my hair and extends my neck, grazing his teeth against my chin, the tip of his tongue awakening the sensitive nerve endings. His hand squeezes my half-exposed ass, and everything lights up. My nipples and clit, a partnership of arousal, tense in ecstasy as they stroke against the man who sets me on fire. He is also the only person who can put me out.
My moans grow louder, but they are drowned out in the safety of the music. And like the flashing lights in the club, I become ablaze with flickering energy, throwing my head back, arching my spine as he supports me, as he lets me use his body, his smell, his taste, his overpowering masculine energy to put out the blaze that he ignites inside of me.
I collapse onto him, grasping his shirt, taking in his smell, the warmth of his broad chest, completely lost in the sensory experience that is Tax. I smile as I burrow my face into his chest, drunk off the mixture of alcohol and lust.