New Release and Giveaway! THE TOUR by Shelby Rebecca (Phoenix Rising #2)

Excerpt:

My breath comes out in puffs, and I watch it because it’s the only diverting thing I can do while I pout outside. I’m shivering but I’m not going in the house, not yet. My plan is to remain stubborn until I can’t take it any longer then I’m going to sleep on the floor in Riley and Deloris’ room. He won’t go in there because of Deloris. At least he has some boundaries.

The door opens behind me and he sticks his head out. “What if I take one of those off the agenda tonight?” he asks, his voice slow.

“What?”

“Talking, spanking, fucking. I’ll take one off the agenda,” he clarifies, coming to stand, in all his glory, forearm pressed against the doorjamb, “if you’ll come inside.” He blinks again for a long time, sways a little, and then stares right into me like he’d done the first time he’d ever laid eyes on me.

“I’m not doing any of that shit,” I tell him, breaking the trance by staring out toward the trees. I’m shaking so hard from the chilled air that my voice sounds like a vibration.

“Fine, you win. Just come inside. My only demand is that you sleep in my bed, where you belong.”

“No.”

“This is my final offer. I’m willing to bend on all the other stuff, even though it would do you some good to get a good spanking. You’d probably like it, which would lead to…you know, the other two in a different order than I’d previously offered.” For whatever reason, he actually makes me smile. It’s a cold-face smile—my lips are numb and my hands are getting stiff.

“Just the sleeping. No talking. No—other stuff.” He nods, smiling, and puts his hand out for me. As I walk toward him, I put my arm out to meet him half way. His hand is as warm as a Christmas evening by the fire. Once I’m inside, he puts his arm around me, his hand sliding down to rest at the small of my back, and walks me down the hall and into his room. Slowly, he pulls down the covers and helps me in like a gentleman helping a lady into a carriage—except he’s in sweats and I’m in mix-matched jammies.

I watch him walk around to his side, and my stomach does a little butterfly flip when he slides in next to me. I cross my legs at the ankle. Off limits.

At first he’s looking up at the ceiling, but then he tilts his head to the side. “You can’t do this, Mia.”

“What can’t I do?”

“What I’m trying to say is you can be mad at me, and I can be really fucking mad at you,” I try not to giggle when he slurs the word ‘fucking,’ “but you can’t shut me out like that,” he whispers and rolls over so he’s facing me. “I’m not even gonna say that you can’t go to bed angry. I’m just going to ask that you sleep with me every night, even if you’re mad. Can you agree to that?”

“I felt weird coming in here after you yelled at me.” He nods, and looks down acknowledging that he hurt me. He looks up, and tunes into me, looking through me, and runs his finger along my jawline.

“Your place is with me. What’s mine is yours. End of story.” He hums a little, the drugs making him melodious.

I want to protest for the sake of protesting, my immaturity peeking out its little baby head. Instead, I swallow and nod. “Okay.” Take that, immaturity.

“Hmmm. That wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be,” his mouth bends into the side smirk he gives only me. I move on to my side and wrap my leg over his.

“So I get my way after all,” he laughs as he smacks me hard on the ass, grabbing it and pulling me on top of him.

“No, you didn’t,” I laugh.

“Even in the order I wanted it. Talking, spanking, fu—” he says, before I take his mouth with mine and pull my shirt over my head. As I look down at him, his face is all soft angles. “You dazzle me,” he says.

“Dazzle, who says that anymore?” I laugh and he stills me with his hands on my hips.

“Well, I’m on all kinds of drugs right now,” he says. “Can’t be responsible for what I say or do.”

“You have to be kidding.”

“Take off your pants. I’ll show you some dazzle,” he adds, and I giggle as his finger runs a soft line up my thigh. He knows that I need this just as much as he does. I sit up straight and unstrap my bra. When he sees my breasts, he swallows hard and his jaw tenses.

I push my pajama pants over the curve of my hips, slowly pulling them down. I’m hesitating because I know this is wrong, he’s wounded, and he probably shouldn’t exert himself. “Take them off,” he demands.

I nod and look him in the eye as I push my pants over my hips, move backward so I’m sitting between his legs, and let him take them off one leg at a time. I can see how ready he is, as I climb over him. My heart is aching as he fists his hand in my hair, running his other hand up my outer thigh, and kisses my lips, flicking my tongue once like I am life and he’s ready to live. I rub my panties against his length as it’s pressing into his stomach. The friction is both exciting and breaking my heart. We almost died. What if I’d lost him?

He fingers my nipple, hardening it before he takes it in his mouth. It’s like a direct line to my core as his tongue moves back and forth before he sucks and squeezes me. I feel my heart constricting, pumping the blood through my veins. I feel like I’m glowing.

I know this is what he needs after the fire, after his fear that we were hurt at the mall. But it’s because he’s never known real love. He lost his mother before he could form a real memory about her. In this moment, I’m grateful that our physical closeness eases his anxiety. But, it makes me move my mouth away from his to catch my breath. When I do, I think too much. I see the wound over his heart and remind myself that he’s a human man—not a rock god. “This could hurt you.”

His fingers travel between us and he moves my panties to the side. I bite my lip as his fingers slide into my soft, wet folds. “Does this hurt?” he murmurs, as my mouth opens and my hips start to move in time with his hand.

“No.” I shake my head, and I can feel my chin start to tremble.