The first touch of his lips against hers ignited a flame that blew Holtâs earlier convictionâthat his fascination with her was a passing thingâwide apart, like a pallet of dynamite
He slanted his mouth over hers, taking nibbling bites from her plush lower rim, pulling it inside his mouth and lavishing it with his tongue. She whimpered when he released it, only to glide his tongue across the seam of her lips in a sensual seesawing motion until she parted her lips for him, silently inviting him inside.
When he felt her tentatively reach out and wrap her arms loosely around his neck, Holt brought her closer, flush against him, her soft curves molding against his hard body. Her big, beautiful breasts pressed tightly against his chest.
He was on fire for her. What had started out as a simple need to taste her, to find out if her lips were as soft as they looked, had escalated into a blazing need that was beginning to consume him.
And damned if he didnât want to get devoured in the blaze.
Dear Reader,
Writing Jasmine and Holtâs story, the second book in the Wyoming Wilde family miniseries, was rewarding, but often challenging! As I wrote their story and saw them coming to vivid life, these two characters were, at times, fun, sexy and completely irreverent. Other times they were stubborn and obstinate. They are two people who are bound and determined not to succumb to what everyone around them can see is inevitableâthat they are falling in love. Hard.
What started off as a simple story of a woman who fell in love with a man, became one that was boundary-pushing and unpredictable, but always a hot, wild and amazing love story.
I hope you enjoy reading Jasmine and Holtâs story as much as I enjoyed writing it!
As always, keep it sexy;)
Kimberly Kaye Terry
KIMBERLY KAYE TERRY
KIMBERLY KAYE TERRYâS love for reading romances began at an early age. Long into the night, she would stay up until she reached âThe Endâ with her Mickey Mouse night-light on, praying she wouldnât be caught reading what her mother called âthoseâ types of books. Often, she would acquire her stash of âthoseâ books from beneath her motherâs bed. Ahem. To date sheâs an award-winning author of fourteen novels in romance and erotic romance, has garnered acclaim for her work and happily calls writing her full-time job.
Kimberly has a bachelorâs degree in social work and a masterâs in human relations and has held licenses in social work and mental health therapy in the United States and abroad. She volunteers weekly at various social-service agencies and is a long-standing member of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc., a community-conscious organization. Kimberly is a naturalist and practices aromatherapy. She believes in embracing the powerful woman within each of us and meditates on a regular basis. Kimberly would love to hear from you. Visit her at www.kimberlykayeterry.com.
âAre you okay, baby? Is the rope too tight?â
Hot liquid eased down her inner thighs in response to the words whispered coarsely against her neck.
âNo.â She paused and drew in a breath. âTheyâre ⦠theyâre not too tight, I mean. I ⦠Iâm okay.â She stammered out the response.
âGood.â
One word and he had her going crazy.
Yasmineâs head tossed on the pillow, her lids tightly closed and her breath coming out in hitched puffs of air as she eagerly waited to feel his mouth against hers and his big body blanket her, forcing her farther down on the mattress.
âBut you have to tell me, baby.â
She shivered as the whispered words feathered along her neck. Her body bowed, arching toward him, desperate to meet his scalding-hot touch.
âTell you ⦠tell you what?â she panted, groaning when he captured the lobe of her ear with his teeth and tugged.
âYou know what I want to hear.â He licked the side of her neck with his tongue.
She felt his hand skim up her thigh, past her hip, over her waist and up the midline of her body before he cupped one of her breasts in his big hand, strumming his thumb over her nipple until it tightened against his palm.
âTell me, Yas.â He drawled the words against her ear in a voice so deep it sent shivers dancing along her spine. The breath that fanned the hair at her temple made her draw in a ragged breath.
Even as she arched into his embrace, ready to tell him whatever it was he wanted to hear, to end the sensual storm that raced in her body, the same one that had been burning for ten years, a nagging buzz in the distance distracted her, refusing to go away.
In frustration she raised a hand, surprised at the ease with which she removed it from the ropes binding her wrists together, and batted away at thin air, as though to make the noise go away.
It grew louder, more insistent. She opened her mouth, ready to tell him whatever he needed to hear, to tell him how she really felt about him, the way sheâd felt about him since the first time sheâd met him, when she was no more than a child. Ready to tell him that as much as sheâd tried to let go and move on with her life, thoughts of him were always there, in the back of her mind, hovering ⦠but the buzz grew so loud and strident Yasmine knew she couldnât ignore it any longer.