Author: Sybil Bartel
Series: Thrust #3
Publication date: June 27th, 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
I’m silent. I’m trained. I’m lethal.
My hand skimming down your thigh, my gaze a weapon—I know more ways to kill you than please you.
But you’re not paying for my aim. You’re paying for my control. Bringing you a breath away from ecstasy, watching you beg as I hold back your release, I’ll show you exactly what you’ve been missing. Your hunger is my currency and five thousand is my price. I only have one rule—no repeats, because I’m not for keeps. I’m for sale.
One slow grind and I’ll give you exactly what you paid for.
Staring into her ice-blue eyes, I grasped her chin and she went dead still. I searched every inch of her face, but she didn’t even blink. “You like giving orders?” I quietly asked. “Or taking them?”
She drew in a breath at my second question, but none of the defensiveness or attitude she had earlier returned. “Do you like bleeding all over your floor?”
I stared at her. I was no longer looking at another man’s submissive on my floor. I was looking at a desperate, broken woman who was holding herself together. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was fucking stunning. The instinct to protect kicked in and I wanted to kill her husband. “Tell me why you ran.”
“What happened to your side?” she deflected.
I dropped my hand and pulled my shirt over my head one-handed. “I was stabbed.”
Her gaze cut to my ribs then to my shoulder. She tried to hide her surprise. “And your shoulder?”
“Shot.” She was no longer the inconvenience I’d encountered an hour ago. She was a fucking disaster about to detonate my life to hell. Every instinct I had said she was going to shred my careful existence worse than any fucking IED.
She scanned the other scars on my chest, then she pressed the kitchen towel to my ribs. “Your stitches aren’t holding.”
I lifted my arm to give her better access because I was a goddamn fool. “I broke through them in the barn.” Her scent was pure woman and desire, but she smelled like fucking trouble.
Oblivious to my thoughts, she nodded once. “Do you have a first aid kit?”
I peered down at her, wondering how far I would let this go. “Would you know what to do with it if I did?”
“I guess you’re about to find out. Where is it?” Her straight white-blonde hair covered her face as she pulled back the towel to see the wound.
Already pushing at the last boundary I had in my life, I brushed the strands behind her ear.
She flinched, then sucked in a breath and glanced up at me.
“You okay?” I quietly asked.
Sybil now resides in Southern Florida and while she doesn’t get to read as much as she likes, she still buries her toes in the sand. If she isn’t writing or fighting to contain the banana plantation in her backyard, you can find her spending time with her handsomely tattooed husband, her brilliantly practical son and a mischievous miniature boxer…
Here are ten things you probably really want to know about Sybil.
She grew up a faculty brat. She can swear like a sailor. She loves men in uniform. She hates being told what to do. She can do your taxes (but don’t ask). The Bird Market in Hong Kong freaks her out. Her favorite word is desperate…or dirty, or both—she can’t decide. She has a thing for muscle cars. But never reply on her for driving directions, ever. And she has a new book boyfriend every week—don’t tell her husband.
To find out more about Sybil Bartel, be sure to follow her on Twitter (she loves to hear about your favorite book boyfriend!), visit her website, like her on Facebook or join her Facebook group Book Boyfriend Heroes for exclusive excerpts and giveaways.