Julie Kenner (aka J. Kenner and J.K. Beck) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of over forty novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres.
Praised by Publishers Weekly as an author with a “flair for dialogue and eccentric characterizations,” JK writes a range of stories including super sexy romances, paranormal romance, chick lit suspense and paranormal mommy lit. Her foray into the latter, Carpe Demon: Adventures of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom by Julie Kenner, is in development as a feature film with 1492 Pictures.
Her recent trilogy of erotic romances, The Stark Trilogy (as J. Kenner), reached as high as #2 on the New York Times list, is published in over twenty countries, and is an international bestseller.
JK lives in Central Texas, with her husband, two daughters, and several cats. She loves hearing from readers, hangs out far too much on social media, and is easily bribed with coffee.
HEATED
by J. Kenner
Most Wanted, Book 2
Coming June 3, 2014!
“Shall I tell you?” he asked. “Shall I tell you exactly what I want? Exactly what I will have from you?”
His mouth was beside my ear, so close I could feel the brush of his lips as his words teased me. I didn’t want to be entranced—didn’t want to feel my body go soft with longing. But dammit, he was drawing me under, and soon I was going to drown in the swell of his words.
“Shall I go over in intimate detail how I will touch you? The way my fingertips will tease your nipples. How my tongue will dance over the curve of your ear. Will it make you wet to know how hard I am? How much I want to sink deep inside of you.”
I made a little sound. I think I meant it to be a yes.
His hands eased lower, sliding down to my waist, then behind to cup my rear. He drew me in, nestling my sex against his thigh, and pressing so tight against me I could feel the hard bulge of his erection against my lower belly. I reached out to steady myself, and found the edges of two serving tables. I clutched at them, desperate to hold on, because I knew damn well that if I let go, I’d melt into a puddle on the floor.
“I imagine you taste like honey,” Tyler murmured. “And when I slide my tongue between your legs, I’ll lose myself in the sweetness of you. I want to watch your face as the orgasm builds inside you. I want to feel you tremble beneath me. And when you finally explode, I want to hold you in my arms and let my kisses pull you back together.”
I trembled, my body hot and sizzling. I was aroused, my breasts heavy, my sex aching. I wanted his touch—wanted him to do all the things he was saying.
Hell, I simply wanted.
I breathed in. Once, twice. I needed to gather myself, my thoughts. I needed to maintain at least some illusion that he hadn’t completely destroyed me with nothing more than words.
“Wow,” I finally managed. “You don’t waste time, do you?”
His smile was slow and lazy. “As far as I’m concerned, time is the one thing too precious to waste.”
He stroked my cheek, my hair. His fingers twined in my curls as he played and stroked. Tighter and tighter, not enough to hurt, but enough so that I gasped in surprise when he tugged my head back and met my eyes. There was ice in the blue now. A cold, winter storm, the chill of which laced his voice as well. “Tell me the truth, Sloane. Are you wasting my time?”
I felt the blood pump through me, the rush filling my head. Not fear—not really. This was excitement. Challenge. And, yes, a bit of frustration, too, because the victory I’d so greedily claimed had apparently been premature.
“Let go of me,” I said, my voice matching the ice of his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He released his grip on my hair and took a step back. I used the motion of standing up straight to shake off my nerves. Despite my desperately pounding heart, right then, this was all about playing it cool. Just like in a suspect interrogation, I wasn’t about to let him see that he’d shaken me.
“I know what my game is,” he said. “I’m trying to figure out yours.”