It's release day for Sexual Games [The Heroes of Silver Springs 8] and it's already #15 and climbing on the Siren-BookStrand M/F bestseller list.
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FBI agent Jackson Graham is tired of playing games. He wants Mallory Stone and he’s made his intentions clear. While Mallory is burning hot for a night of passion, she won’t give him her heart, and he won’t settle for less. He’s warned her when his tie comes off, it’s really going to be time to play. He has some new games in mind, and the prize will be more than her delicious, sultry body.
Why can’t no-strings-attached sex be enough for Jackson? Jackson knows Mallory wants him in her bed, but he won’t let it be that easy. He wants her heart. A life spent knowing the consequences of love has put her heart under a lock she simply cannot allow to be broken. But when a case puts her in danger, fears swap sides, emotions run wild, and they find themselves playing a game they both might lose.
Excerpt:
“Were you hurt?” She started to slow for a stale yellow then gauged the distance too close to stop. She punched the gas, gliding the car beneath the traffic light just as it turned red. She glanced at him. The fleeting red glow illuminated the muscle ticking in his jaw.
“Not physically,” he answered dryly, not looking at her. “My ego took a hell of a blow, though.”
Mallory knew what it cost him to admit that. Tough as nails, stuffy, and often a pompous ass, Jackson Graham didn’t let much penetrate his steely shell, especially on the job. He was a robot, or at least that’s what he preferred people to believe. He kept his emotions hidden, on and off assignment.
Except for that one time.
Yeah, and that one time had scared her to the tips of her toes.
“I apologize for pulling you away from Cinderella’s.”
He made the conversational shift before she could prod for more answers. She let it go, finding a string of patience within herself to latch onto until they reached HQ.
“It’s no big deal. I was considering leaving when you called anyway.” That was a half-truth, but she went with it. She’d really been debating on another drink, a dance with Jim, possibly more.
“Considering?” Jackson finally looked at her, his expression blank, guarded. “Was there something that might have kept you there if I hadn’t called?”
Should she tell him? Would it help her mission or hinder it? Making Jackson jealous had never worked for her before. That was if she’d ever managed to make him jealous in the past. If she had, he damn sure never let it show.
“I thought about staying for another drink, maybe a dance or two.” As she said it, she felt herself slip into you-want-to-fuck-me mode. She’d been playing the game with Jackson for years, laying it on thick, not attempting to hide an ounce of her attraction to him. That, too, hadn’t worked yet, but hope sprung eternal. “What’s the matter, handsome? Does the thought of me on a dance floor make that conservative brain of yours think provocative thoughts?”
“I’ve seen you on a dance floor. Your idea of dancing makes Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey’s interpretation fit for a Disney special.”
Mallory threw her head back and laughed. “You should try it sometime. A couple of hot, sweaty bodies bumping and grinding to the beat of the music, a little alcohol to numb the senses…” She trailed off as her words created an image in her head that made her panties wet. She saw Jackson on a dance floor, his tie gone and shirt half unbuttoned to reveal a rock-solid chest speckled with dark springy hair. She saw his stormy gaze lock with hers as he crooked a finger, beckoning her closer. She could almost feel one corded, muscular arm as it slid around her waist and yanked her close. Then he started to move, grinding his thickening cock against her belly and sending slivers of erotic heat straight to her pussy.
“I should try it with you, I suppose.”
His words ripped her from the quickly accelerating porn flick taking form in her mind. She shifted in her seat and felt more juices escape her slick folds as she pulled the car into the parking lot of FBI HQ. She looked at him as she put the car in park and shut off the engine.
“It would be a place to start.” She slid her gaze from his face to his chest, her hands burning to touch. She wanted to push off his jacket, rip open his shirt and flatten her palms on his tanned flesh. She wanted to feel his dense muscles flex under her hands. She dared to lean closer to him, to reach for his tie, and let the silk glide through her fingers. “You’re still wearing this tie far too tight, Agent Graham.”
His hand closed around her wrist and she suddenly felt dizzy, intoxicated. It was as if his fingers came equipped with tiny needles that penetrated her flesh and injected her with a heavy dose of erotic desire. His stormy gaze locked with hers, and the intensity in his stare took her breath away. Challenge, promise, and hope twisted in an expression that was starkly sexual and dangerous as hell.
“Take it off, Mallory. You know what you’ll get.”
Sanity teetered as need urged her to do things her mind screamed she shouldn’t. Yeah, she knew what she would get, exactly what she’d wanted for more years than she could count. Knowledge of what it would cost her in return had her slowly dropping her hand and easing back into her own seat.
A flash of disappointment moved through his handsome face. “You still aren’t ready to play.”
The passenger door closed with a finality that sent a shudder down her spine. Anger and a fear she could no longer ignore kept her planted in her seat as she watched him walk into the building, saw him stop just inside the door to wait for her. He’d taken over the game, changed the rules.
“Not by a long shot,” she muttered as she got out of the car and slammed the door behind her. She was Mallory Stone, and she didn’t stand placidly by while anyone attempted to take control of anything she possessed. Jackson wanted to play. Well, then, she’d just have to stage a game he’d never forget.
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