This simmering-ready-to-boil-over excerpt will give you the impetus to squee. His enemies call him Death, and he’s got the hots for Anika Kaleen. She’s a galactic bounty hunter who has the hots for him, but is determined to get her man and put him away for his crimes.
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A Pasionate Squee Excerpt from Falling for the Succubus by Siren Allen
“Okay,” I blurt out, louder than I’d intended. “I’ll bathe with the rope on. But, you have to turn your back. And, you have to tie my hands in front of me instead of behind me. I can’t bathe with them behind my back. Also, you have to turn your back,” I reiterate. I don’t want him watching me finger myself.
“What? Which condition are you saying no to?”
“I’m not turning my back.”
“Uh, perv, that condition is non-negotiable. I don’t want you watching me bathe.”
“I don’t want you picking up a rock and knocking me upside my head while my back is turned.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“You shot me with an arrow.”
“Stop bringing up the past. I’m not going to hit you with a rock. I’m modest. I don’t want you watching me.”
“Modest? A succubus?”
Okay, he has a point.
“Not discussing it. I won’t turn my back. And I’m not tying your hands in front of you.”
“How the hell am I supposed to bathe then?”
He stares around the room. I have no idea what he’s looking for. When his eyes return to me, he sighs then walks behind my chair. Yes, a victory. A minor one. But it’s still a win. My mother always told me to celebrate the small things.
The rope around my wrists loosens. I have a fleeting thought that I quickly dismiss. Me grabbing the chair, whirling around and swinging it at his face is too risky. There are too many things that can go wrong.
I have to be smart about this. Patience is a virtue. Wrists free, I pull my arms to the front of me. He quickly moves in front of me, startling me. He grabs my wrists and pulls me to my feet.
Before I can protest, my hands are behind my back and he’s retying the rope around my wrists. I want to complain. I really do. But he’s still standing in front of me. His hands are around my body as he ties the rope.
This position forces my chest to touch his. Heat courses through me. He tightens the rope. It feels great. The fibers from the rope bite into my flesh. My eyes are level with his chest.
I listen to his heartbeat while watching his chest rise and fall with each breath he takes. His heart is beating just as fast as mine is. All other sound disappears. Only the sound of our breathing remains.
The rope is tied, and still, his hands are around me. I refuse to look up into his face. If I were to see desire in his eyes, that would break my self-control. I’m already on the verge of leaning forward and licking his neck.
I bet his skin will taste delicious. I imagine its texture against my tongue. I picture myself dragging my tongue up and down his throat. But that wouldn’t be enough, not for me. I’d want to taste more. I’d want to taste all of him. Every hard inch of him.
“Anika,” he whispers.
I blink. Why the hell am I pressed closer to him with my mouth hovering over his neck? I’m on my tiptoes, yet I have no recollection of moving. None at all. I immediately try to step back.
His hands are still gripping the rope, so I don’t get far. My cheeks heat in embarrassment. I don’t know what to say. ‘Sorry for almost licking your neck,’ sounds kind of lame.
I stand there and stare down at our feet. I like his boots. Yes, think about his boots, that is so much safer. His feet are huge. That must mean he has a monster coc… Shit. Why do my thoughts keep straying to sex?
Bad me, I chastise myself. I can feel his breath against my forehead. His scent is intoxicating. He’s not wearing any cologne and still, his scent is calling to me. I’m the succubus. I’m the one who’s supposed to be the siren.
Yet, he’s the one seducing me without trying. I wish I could blame this attraction entirely on the fact that I am wounded and haven’t fed in months. But, that would be a lie. I’ve felt this way for him ever since the first time he saved me.
At the time, I didn’t know my masked hero was my target. I know now. That knowledge should damper these feelings. It doesn’t. And that scares the shit out of me. I have to bring him in.
He has to pay for his crimes. He’s a criminal. I will not allow myself to become attached to him. We cannot be friends. We cannot have sex. We cannot form any kind of bond. I have to distance myself.
And I will. In a moment. Right now, his warmth feels too good to ignore. His body is so hard. I always pictured Agorians as frail geniuses who relied on their brains because they were weak physically. Boy was I wrong.
“Why do you smell this way?” His deep voice pulls me away from my thoughts.
“Huh?” I blink and try to focus on what he’s saying and not the way he smells.
“Why do you smell like…” He pauses to sniff my hair. “I do not know this scent.”
I sniff. I smell it to. But it’s him, not me.
“I think that smell is coming from you.” And boy is it powerful.
“Of course you would say that. If you think it’s coming from me, lead me to the river so I can bathe and wash it away.”
He hesitates before nodding. “I’ll allow you to bathe. But I will not turn away while you do so and your hands will remain tied behind your back.”
“This must be a magical river that you’re leading me to. One that has fairies in it who will bathe me and braid my hair,” I say, sarcastically.
“Fairies aren’t real,” he tells me. “I will bathe you.”
“I will try to braid your hair also. If you want me to.”
His thumb grazes the inside of my wrist. I tremble. My heart melts a little for this criminal. I’m in big trouble.
~Available on Amazon and free with Kindle Unlimited~
- US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N6IGNG3
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Hi, my name is Siren Allen. I’m a writer and lover of all things supernatural and romantic. I reside in southern Mississippi where I write steamy romances that are guaranteed to make you blush. When I’m not listening to the characters in my head and jotting down their adventures, I am busy working as a Clinical Laboratory Technician.
I love to travel, preferably with my husband, so he can do all of the driving. I enjoy time with my family, who are just as silly as I am. My hobbies are reading, writing and shopping, though I hate trying on clothing. If I wasn’t a writer or a Laboratory Professional, I would probably be a Secret Agent.
But that’s the beauty of being a writer. You can create your own world and be whoever you want to be. In my imaginary world, I am Queen and my siblings are my minions.
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