Blurb:
They fight to protect those who
would never welcome them into the human world...
Petúr always knew he and his
brothers-in-arms were different. Something more. Something not human. Yet, he
never expected to find out the truth of their origins, nor fall for a human
woman whose father was set to destroy Neverland.
Ever since she was a child, Wyndi
dreamed of an angel with eyes of the purest gold, although she never really
believed such a man existed until she met the hauntingly beautiful Petúr of the
lost boys.
With a prophecy to fulfill, a woman
to protect, a portal to find, and evil darklings out for blood, will Petúr be
strong enough to rise up and claim what’s rightfully his, or lose everything to
a long-time nemesis, Grapple the Dark?
EXCERPT:
“Where are we
going?” Wyndi asked.
“My room.” Five
rapid heartbeats later, they were inside his bedroom with Petúr kicking the
door closed behind them. “I need to know something,” he said in his honey
tones.
Wyndi glanced up
at him from under her lashes, and shivered. He was staring at her with eyes
glinting gold. The braid he wore in his hair dangled down the right side of his
cheek, tickling her.
“What do you want
to know?”
“This.”
Petúr bent his
head, slanted his mouth over hers, tongue tasting the line of her lips until
she parted them on an intake of breath. When their flesh met, she closed her
eyes. Fireworks exploded inside her head, the luminous sparks floating, then
falling, falling, and transitioning into a force crashing down over her—a title
wave of longing. She moaned, tasting the summer sky, morning dew, the sweetness
of rainbows, sultry nights, and rain storms.
Mind whirling, her
body shifting, she was lying on her back, fingers tangled into the nape of
Petúr’s satiny hair, the other hand pressed against the steely strength of his
shirt-covered chest. Every part of her became aware of him on some sort of
molecular level. Yet nothing could have prepared her for what she experienced
when he tucked himself between her thighs and groaned. Heat slammed into her
core. Her stomach quivered. Her panties dampened. An inferno. Yes, surely it
must be an inferno which lapped at her skin while their tongues tangled into
infinity.
****
Petúr was lost in an ocean of sensation, wave
after wave, pulling him under. The connection to this woman beneath him was
undeniable. Everything about Wyndi filled him up until there was nothing but
her. Her taste. Her touch. Her scent. His chest expanded.
Damn,
her scent. She tasted better than the cotton candy fragrance
that wafted from her skin. Skin. Oh, yes,
skin. That’s what he needed, to feel her soft skin against his.
“Wyndi.” He
breathed, saddened to break the kiss, reaching over his shoulder, yanking the
material of his shirt, lifting up with the other hand, and pulling the garment
from over his head. “I must feel your flesh against mine.”
Her tongue darted
out, licking her lips. Was she nervous? Well, he’d be the balm to soothe those
nerves. He focused on her mouth. Those delicious lips were kiss swollen and
moist, making his cock strain even more against the constraint of his pants.
“Okay,” she said
in a small, breathy voice, the lids covering her blue eyes at half-mast.
He reached for the
hem of the too big nightshirt covering the body he had to see, lifting until he
revealed her little white panties and lacy bra covered breasts. Blood raced
through his veins. He wanted to do everything with her. To her. Touch all over.
Taste every inch of her. Put his fingers and cock into the tight, warm sheath
he knew was awaiting him.
Take
her.
Hell yeah. Those two words became a chant within his mind. He wanted to take
his woman in every position he could imagine and then some. His woman? Yes. Yes she was his, or
would be. Slow your roll. You don’t want
to scare her. He had to maintain. He couldn’t go at her like some out of
control beast.
Leaning down, he
kissed between the creamy mounds of her cleavage, skimmed his cheek across the
apex of her right breast, watching goose bumps scatter across her flesh in a
wanton invitation. Unable to stop himself from licking her, he lapped at her in
one, long, lingering stroke, from the top edge of the bra, up her collarbone,
only stopping because the material he’d lifted hindered his progress being
bunched around her neck.
“Oh, hell,” he
muttered. “You taste so good.”
LINKS:
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/London-Saint-James/e/B005I7KJWY/
ARe Author Page: http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=author&qString=London+Saint+James
Barnes & Noble Author Page: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/london-saint-james
