Excerpt Samantha’s Secret


Why did he crave her? That was the real question. For if he was truly honest with himself, it was this naive and yet complex woman that he wanted, and had for more than a year now. He had wanted her from the moment he saw her, the moment he became her protector, her guardian. And he no more understood how it had come to this; he, a heaven sent angel, lurking in the shadows to spend time with her, than he understood what had summoned him to her bed in the first place. But there she was, Samantha Lynn Bennett, lying before him, naked, awash in the moonlight.

While his mind labored on their unique situation, his gaze roamed her body freely. Why had he come? “Why,” he growled. Then she moaned, a soft breathy whimper really, but one that was so deeply filled with ecstasy, it instantly woke his primitive self. That sinful self he thought had died on his last drawn breath so long ago.

Ah yes, he thought. There it was–the reason why–evident in her quickening breath. She was calling to him alright, of that there was no question. Not literally but metaphorically, in the sense that she had summoned him with her mind. She was caught in a dream so real, it gripped her, possessed her—and drew him in.

He willed his gaze back to her face, watched her eyes as they shifted under closed lids. He admired the way her raven eyelashes lay across her porcelain skin like delicate quills. He thought her lips looked slightly swollen, as if she’d been kissed and often. And he remembered with great accuracy the feel of her mouth, all supple softness, pressed against his.

All that was uniquely Samantha, right down to the overtly feminine scent of her hair—of her—seemed to encompass him. Her passion enticed him, licking at his flesh until he was mentally gritting his teeth. He clinched his fists and held on to his primal hunger with an unrelenting resolve. He imagined he was anywhere but where he was—standing in a gorgeous woman’s bedroom, two seconds away from ripping off his own clothes with his bare hands.


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