From New York Times bestselling author, Shayla Black...
After being framed for a crime he didn’t commit, former private eye Nick Navarro has nothing but revenge on his mind—until a woman from his past returns to beg for his help.
Beautiful widow Sasha Porter has been hunted by his enemies. Desperate, she offers him anything to keep her young daughter safe, even agreeing to become his mistress. The last thing either of them want are emotional entanglements but as they entrap the ruthless politician who arranged Nick’s downfall and passion sizzles between them, danger closes in.
Will he choose love over vengeance before it’s too late?
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Shock knocked the air from her lungs. “You’d want someone giving you whatever just because you commanded it?”“The commands are for your psyche, sweetheart. That way, you can tell yourself that you didn’t have a choice, that of course you didn’t like bedding down with a rapist. But honestly, I’m not going to do a damn thing to you until your body is good and wet and ready.”
She digested his words in a panic and shook her head. “That may never happen.”
His jaw tightened. “If I can’t get you hot, I don’t have any business between your legs. If you can’t let go because you’re afraid I’ll hurt you, I’ll persuade your body otherwise. That’s a promise.”
How was she supposed to respond to that? “Um, I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of…arousing a woman. I meant that I may disappoint you if you’re expecting some vixen. I—I’m not very sexual.”
Nick stilled, then a smile quirked up the side of his mouth. “You will be.”
Those words filled her with part dread—and if she was honest—part anticipation. Always, she’d been the good girl. She’d been a virgin on her wedding night, done her best to be a lady, even in the bedroom. Somehow, she didn’t think Nick would appreciate her circumspect nature or accept her lying back and sorting through her mental to-do list during sex. Then again, what choice did she have? Faking a few moans would be much easier than actually orgasming with a virtual—and very dangerous—stranger. Sasha thought back to his touch on her breast, the way he’d rocked his hips against her. She’d felt something, far more than she expected. Maybe it would be enough to see her through. “I—I’ll do my best not to disappoint you,” she murmured finally.
A laugh played across Nick’s wide mouth. “Don’t worry. I plan to be thoroughly satisfied.”
Nick
Navarro had been out of prison exactly thirty-five hours. Long enough to get a
good night’s sleep, stock up on a few necessities, and visit his old friends,
the Santiago brothers. Then he’d started putting his P.I. skills to good use,
methodically searching for the woman he hadn’t forgotten a single detail about
during the fifteen months of his incarceration.
He
intended to hunt down the bastards who had framed him and offed his childhood
friend so he could repay them in spades.
Sasha
Porter was the key.
At first
glance, it looked as if she had disappeared off the face of the earth. She’d
fled her house, quit her job, abandoned her car, maybe even changed her name.
But his gut told him she was still alive. She had reasons to fight.
He would
burn down the world until he found her.
Nick was
forcing himself not to pace manically when his doorbell rang, sounding above
the din of pounding rain. He zipped his gaze to the clock. Quarter ’til
midnight. Obviously this wasn’t a social call. Had his late buddy’s enemy
gotten wind of him shaking the trees for Sasha? Or had that corrupt son of a
bitch just come back for another pound of flesh?
With
every light in the living room on, Nick couldn’t pretend he wasn’t home.
Besides, he refused to let this asshole think he was afraid. So he drew his
weapon and jerked the door open, wearing a snarl.
Nick
expected trouble, a gunfight, a battle for his life. Instead, Sasha Porter
stood under his little portico, clinging near the door to avoid the deluge of
November rain. Without a coat, she shivered. An exhausted little girl slept on
her hip under a baby blanket, blond curls askew. A ragged duffel bag hung over
her other arm. Rain had seeped through Sasha’s tattered blouse. Water ran down
her cheek, which was marred with an unmistakable bruise. Dark circles
discolored the skin under her hazel eyes, now wide with fear as she stared at
his SIG. Cursing, Nick scrambled to holster his weapon.
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