When Killian MacGregor, the hottest quarterback in the NFL, eyes the perfect pair of female legs, he spends an hour tracking the gorgeous woman in a room filled with rowdy teammates until one gets out of line.
Holly S. Roberts is the bestselling author of fourteen novels, and writes under three pen names. A romantic at heart, she fell in love at the age of twelve with a boy she saw across junior high school campus. Four years later, he took notice and she never let go.
Her career in law enforcement gives her a reason to want romance, happy endings, and anything that takes her away from real life when she reads and writes. She can shoot a mean game of pool, toss back a straight shot of tequila, and recite the Gettysburg Address.
Holly lives high in the mountains in the southwest United States with her husband, Rottweiler and Chihuahua.
I dissolved into the seat of his amazing car. A low moan escaped my lips but Killian just showed his dimples and buckled me in. I wondered what he’d do if I pulled him tightly against me and sniffed… for an hour or two.
He opened his door and folded into the seat with absolute grace regardless of his size.
“Ah hell,” he muttered and turned my way. Unlatching my seatbelt, he pulled me in for the most mouthwatering kiss I’d ever had.
His lips, soft but firm, molded to mine. His tongue ran over my teeth, tasted, dipped deeper, and then plunged. He effortlessly slid out the elastic holding my hair before spreading his fingers to either side of my scalp. The kiss intensified and Killian made promises for the night ahead with his lips.
He tasted so damn good.
When he pulled back, I actually whimpered and smiled at the low rumbling growl that came from Killian’s throat. He took my lower lip between his teeth and pulled slightly before letting go. He put distance between us leaving me bereft.
“We’ll eat at my house.” He kissed my forehead, reached over, grabbed the seatbelt, and fastened me in again. My hands went to my hair as I looked around for the hair tie.
I stopped my search but couldn’t help running my fingers through the mussed tangles. Killian’s hand captured mine. “No.” He released my fingers just as fast as he verbalized the one word.
I wasn’t a pushover, didn’t have much experience with guys, but I had some. I should have argued, straightened my hair anyway, or even voiced some sort of displeasure. An electrically charged pulse shot straight to the junction of my thighs, and there I went and tried to stain his car’s upholstery.
I kept my mouth shut. hosted by: