by: Samanthe Beck
Series: Private Pleasures
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: May 10, 2021
Publisher: Entangled Brazen
Amazon | Paperback | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play | Goodreads
She’s a walking, talking disturbance of his peace…
When former Navy SEAL West Donovan trades covert ops for small-town cop, he craves calm and order. Rescuing a sexy, law-bending hitchhiker during a rainstorm raises his gut-level trouble detector—plus a few things south of his gut—into the red zone. He vows to help this particular tumbleweed find her way and keep it professional, but when she becomes his downstairs neighbor, professionalism is sorely tested. He’s got red lingerie infiltrating his laundry, sultry songs invading his bedroom, and suddenly he’s the one in need of rescue.
Aspiring singer/songwriter Roxy Goodhart ventures to Bluelick, Kentucky to outrun her latest mistake. It’s a doozy, involving a lying ex-manager, a dire lack of cash, and a teensy bit of grand larceny. Landing in the long, strong, entirely too tempting arms of the law is no way to keep a low profile while she re-builds her “L.A. or bust” fund. Taking an apartment that—oops—puts her under West…er…in his path every day doesn’t help. Testing his impressive reserve is beyond reckless, but she’d love to test it…all…night…long.
“Christ almighty, Reckless. If this isn’t what you had in mind when you sashayed in here half-naked, speak up now.”
She heard the question in his voice. Despite the display of dominance involved in manhandling her into her current position, despite the palpable amount of male lust looming behind her, or the firm hold of a single rangy hand pinning both of hers together at the small of her back, she heard the question. She’d sashayed in here this morning with a careless mindset. A kid playing with matches, hoping for a dangerous thrill, but instead of a few sparks she’d set off a fire. In him. In her. He was offering her a safe exit, but she didn’t want safe. She’d been smoldering too long. She wanted to burn.
“Please.”
“Please what, Rox?” His sleep-roughened voice contrasted starkly with the gentle touch of one blunt fingertip tracing the curve of the phoenix wings that spanned the lowest part of her back. She couldn’t suppress a shiver. “Please yes, or please no?”
It was possibly the most messed-up decision of her whole messed-up life, but she made it without hesitation. She’d deal with salvaging herself afterward. Her feet found traction on the polished pine floor. She pushed up to her toes so the T-shirt pooled at her waist, baring herself to him as best as she could.
Long fingers sank into her hair, gripped just hard enough to guide her chin up and turn her so she faced the other way, then slid slowly down her spine. Their reflection stared back at her from mirrored closet doors. She saw herself slung over the end of his bed, back arched for another caress.
And him. Lord. Have. Mercy.
She drank that sight in from the ground up—from sturdy feet planted on either side of hers, to long, corded calves and rugged thighs. His ass couldn’t have been more perfect in shape and proportion if Michelangelo himself had carved it from marble. A flex of his hips dug a mouthwatering hollow into the side of his glute. Her attention roved to his cock—thick and jutting from the holster of his fist, the head much closer to her than she’d realized. Close enough to make her sex clench and release with anticipatory quivers. More honed muscles rippled along his abs and ribs, guiding her stare up…up…up. Their eyes met. “Please, yes,” she whispered.
Every ounce of his focus dropped to where their bodies poised to merge. His gaze felt tangible…some new kind of touch she had no ability to withstand. Watching him look at her like this—laid out for the taking—caused another spasm of want deep inside her. Watching him hook his fingers into the back of her panties, feeling the fabric pull tight, brought a needy moan to her throat. She shifted her hips, impatient to be free of the underwear she’d selected this morning without much thought. Had she known when she’d pulled them on that West would assume responsibility for removing them, she might have chosen something classier than white cotton hot-shorts with If you can read this you’re probably going to get laid emblazoned across the back in looping red script. Maybe she would have skipped them altogether like he’d originally assumed. Would he pull them down or simply shove them aside?
Or would he just continue torturing her like this, she wondered, as he worked another moan out of her by testing the give of the fabric. Her moan turned to a startled squeak as one hard, fast tug rent the garment. It landed in a whisper at her feet. The white stood out like a flag of surrender against the dark-stained floor, and for a frantic half second, she wondered if she’d come out of this just as beyond repair. Was she sure she knew what she was doing? But then he guided the wide, smooth head of his cock down the path no longer shielded by anything—classy or otherwise—and her thoughts scattered. Her attention darted back to the mirror, while inner muscles dissolved into a frenzy of flutters.
Chin tucked to his chest, brow furrowed, West lined her up like a pool shot. That wide, smooth head nudged her threshold. Impatience made her push her hips back and intensify the contact.
“You don’t want to rush me, Reckless. Not after inciting me for weeks. The worst of it is you don’t even know how you broke me. You think we’re here because you flashed this ass”—he cupped one cheek and squeezed—“and jiggled these tits.” Leaning over, he eased his hands under her torso and slid them up to cup her breasts. “You’re wrong. It’s every damn thing you do without even trying.” Straightening, he gripped her hips again. “That’s what makes you reckless.”
She heard the question in his voice. Despite the display of dominance involved in manhandling her into her current position, despite the palpable amount of male lust looming behind her, or the firm hold of a single rangy hand pinning both of hers together at the small of her back, she heard the question. She’d sashayed in here this morning with a careless mindset. A kid playing with matches, hoping for a dangerous thrill, but instead of a few sparks she’d set off a fire. In him. In her. He was offering her a safe exit, but she didn’t want safe. She’d been smoldering too long. She wanted to burn.
“Please.”
“Please what, Rox?” His sleep-roughened voice contrasted starkly with the gentle touch of one blunt fingertip tracing the curve of the phoenix wings that spanned the lowest part of her back. She couldn’t suppress a shiver. “Please yes, or please no?”
It was possibly the most messed-up decision of her whole messed-up life, but she made it without hesitation. She’d deal with salvaging herself afterward. Her feet found traction on the polished pine floor. She pushed up to her toes so the T-shirt pooled at her waist, baring herself to him as best as she could.
Long fingers sank into her hair, gripped just hard enough to guide her chin up and turn her so she faced the other way, then slid slowly down her spine. Their reflection stared back at her from mirrored closet doors. She saw herself slung over the end of his bed, back arched for another caress.
And him. Lord. Have. Mercy.
She drank that sight in from the ground up—from sturdy feet planted on either side of hers, to long, corded calves and rugged thighs. His ass couldn’t have been more perfect in shape and proportion if Michelangelo himself had carved it from marble. A flex of his hips dug a mouthwatering hollow into the side of his glute. Her attention roved to his cock—thick and jutting from the holster of his fist, the head much closer to her than she’d realized. Close enough to make her sex clench and release with anticipatory quivers. More honed muscles rippled along his abs and ribs, guiding her stare up…up…up. Their eyes met. “Please, yes,” she whispered.
Every ounce of his focus dropped to where their bodies poised to merge. His gaze felt tangible…some new kind of touch she had no ability to withstand. Watching him look at her like this—laid out for the taking—caused another spasm of want deep inside her. Watching him hook his fingers into the back of her panties, feeling the fabric pull tight, brought a needy moan to her throat. She shifted her hips, impatient to be free of the underwear she’d selected this morning without much thought. Had she known when she’d pulled them on that West would assume responsibility for removing them, she might have chosen something classier than white cotton hot-shorts with If you can read this you’re probably going to get laid emblazoned across the back in looping red script. Maybe she would have skipped them altogether like he’d originally assumed. Would he pull them down or simply shove them aside?
Or would he just continue torturing her like this, she wondered, as he worked another moan out of her by testing the give of the fabric. Her moan turned to a startled squeak as one hard, fast tug rent the garment. It landed in a whisper at her feet. The white stood out like a flag of surrender against the dark-stained floor, and for a frantic half second, she wondered if she’d come out of this just as beyond repair. Was she sure she knew what she was doing? But then he guided the wide, smooth head of his cock down the path no longer shielded by anything—classy or otherwise—and her thoughts scattered. Her attention darted back to the mirror, while inner muscles dissolved into a frenzy of flutters.
Chin tucked to his chest, brow furrowed, West lined her up like a pool shot. That wide, smooth head nudged her threshold. Impatience made her push her hips back and intensify the contact.
“You don’t want to rush me, Reckless. Not after inciting me for weeks. The worst of it is you don’t even know how you broke me. You think we’re here because you flashed this ass”—he cupped one cheek and squeezed—“and jiggled these tits.” Leaning over, he eased his hands under her torso and slid them up to cup her breasts. “You’re wrong. It’s every damn thing you do without even trying.” Straightening, he gripped her hips again. “That’s what makes you reckless.”
Purchase Wet and Reckless from:
The Private Pleasures Series:
Private Practice ~ Review
Light Her Fire ~ Review
Falling for the Enemy ~ Review
Wine lover, sleep fanatic, and USA Today Bestselling Author of sexy contemporary romance novels, Samanthe Beck lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with her long-suffering husband, Charles, and their turbo-son, Hud. Throw in a furry ninja assassin named Gander, a few hundred Nerf blasters, one electric guitar, (with amp!), and...well...you get the picture.
When not dreaming up fun, fan-your-cheeks ways to get her characters to happy-ever-after, she searches for the perfect cabernet to pair with ASMR podcasts.
Places to find Samanthe Beck:
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