Bee Carter’s carefully constructed world is tumbling down around her designer knockoff heels. Pleasing others isn’t working for this small-town fashionista. Bee decides to throw caution to the Chicago wind for one night and release her inner bad girl, accepting a sexy challenge from an unknown texter, exploring the backseat of a limousine with gorgeous billionaire Nicolas, and entering a rough, tough biker bar with the mysterious Hawke.
Two hot men, one wicked night. When this good girl goes wild, who will make her erotic dreams come true—the enigmatic billionaire or the tattooed bad boy?
Read An Excerpt:
A very large man separates from the pack, and my words fade. He’s backlit, his face and form in darkness, but I’d recognize that blunt buzz cut, square chin, broad shoulders, and confident swagger anywhere.
“Hawke,” I whisper, my toes wiggling in the practical flats I was forced to wear. My lack of heels makes him appear even larger, more dominant and manly.
“Sweetheart.” He cups my chin with his rough fingers and tilts my face upward. Our gazes meet and hold, time stopping, the noise and lights fading. There’s only the two of us.
I’ll have sex with this mountain of a man tonight. Decades-entrenched fear battles newly formed desire. The temptation to turn, to run from him, from this fate, increases with each heartbeat. I know of only one way to quiet my mind, to ensure passion wins. “Kiss me,” I whisper.
Hawke doesn’t hesitate. He swoops down and claims my lips, the strength of his embrace stealing my breath. I gasp. He surges inside me, his tongue tangling, tumbling with mine. He tastes of whiskey and chocolate, a burning sweetness I could quickly become addicted to.
My knees tremble, and he straps his arms around my body, holding me upright, pressing me to him. I forget everything, my doubts, our audience, my friend Cyndi, losing myself in him, in the rasp of his stubble-covered chin against my skin, the stroke of his tongue along mine, the hardness of his body.
Hawke lifts me higher, fitting me into his fit form. My curves flatten against his muscle. My feet dangle above the pavement. Never have I felt this delicate, this cherished.
I grip his shoulders, clinging to him, relishing his strength and size. This is right, this kiss, this night, this man. I’ll give him everything, expecting only pleasure in return, forgoing forever for one evening.
A man whistles, breaking the spell. Other men join him, hooting and hollering, their unruly behavior heating my cheeks. Hawke releases my lips and pushes my face into his cotton-covered chest, bending over my smaller form as though to shield me from them.
“I’m glad you came,” he murmurs, his voice low and deep and arousing.