But a man like this, she marveled, knew how to be real. How to test her boundaries, push her to the edge without ever taking advantage. Submitting to him came easily. His demanding touch was like a down payment, a promise that he’d always bring her to sheer bliss in the end.
In return, she trusted him with her desires, with her most intimate fantasies.
She couldn’t believe they were lying in a stranger’s bed, hiding out in a bubble of post-sex perfection while hundreds of people sipped Champagne and made small talk inside the main house.
At any moment, someone could come looking.
Ari was so turned on she could barely keep still.
“Touch me,” she whispered, aching for him again. “I’m still so wet. If you don’t do something, I might have to touch myself.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Darling, if you want me to pass up on the opportunity to see you touching yourself, your marketing plan needs serious work.”
“Please,” she said. “I need your hands on me. Right now.”
Without another protest, he slipped his hand between her thighs, stroking her deep from behind. She arched backward, guiding his fingers deeper, moaning when he hit her g-spot.
“Yes,” she breathed, her moans spurring him on, his fingers stroking her faster, deeper. “God, right there.”
She tensed every muscle, holding her breath as he brought her closer and closer.
“Turn,” he whispered, guiding her onto her back. “I need to see your face.”
She did as he asked, opening her legs wider. He massaged her clit with his thumb, his fingers stroking her channel as he leaned in close, dragging his teeth across her nipple, and then flicking it with his tongue.
It was ecstasy.
The thought of calling an end to it, of returning to her reality… Ari couldn’t bear it. It wasn’t just his masterful touch, his dominant command. It was him, she realized. It was all of him. Just like that night in Central Park, she didn’t want to say goodbye. Not ever.
She wanted to know him. Wished she could.
And he’d wanted to know her—the real her. But she’d pushed him away every time with lies and deflections. With kisses. With her flesh.
She had to.
This is your life, Arianne. What’d you expect? You never should’ve gotten attached.
But it was too late for never-should-haves. She was attached.
Ari’s throat constricted with a knot of unshed tears. She swallowed it down, winding her fingers into the man’s thick, dark hair as he tongued her nipples, thrusting against his fingers as he went deeper and deeper…
“God, yes!” Without warning, her pussy clenched around his fingers, her body flooding with liquid heat as she shattered once again.
And not a moment too soon.
Someone was there.
“Jared?” Another Brit called from just outside the front door, his knock urgent. “Dinner is nearly over. Hastings senior is looking for you. Shall I tell him you’re… otherwise engaged?”
Ari closed her eyes. She didn’t care if the other Brit was her man’s brother, or cousin, or his best friend from home. She just wanted him to disappear, to let them live in this fairytale bubble just a little while longer.
“What do you think, darling,” her man whispered, climbing on top of her and positioning himself between her thighs. Despite three orgasms already, she was still so wet for him, so hot. He kissed his way down her throat, licked her throbbing nipple. “I think you’d like to go another round.”
“Mmmm.” She nodded, arching against him, desperate for the friction. “I want more. Please.”
Judging from the hard cock thickening between her thighs, Ari thought he was in agreement, but another rap on the door interrupted them.
“Honestly, Blackwell,” the man outside said, totally impatient now. “You’ve got five minutes before I send the old man out here to find you. Wrap it up.”
Ignoring him, her man reached for another condom. “Don’t worry, love. He’ll go away.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” she said, her eyes drifting closed.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’ve only got five minutes.”
“Oh, you and I can do a lot of damage in five minutes.” He pressed his mouth against hers, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth.
She was still coming down from the high of her last orgasm, her body quickly revving up for the next, when an alarm rang suddenly in her head.
It was faint and fuzzy, struggling to find its way through the haze in her mind, but it was real. Heat pooled in her stomach with a twist of fear that had nothing to do with this man’s punishing hands.
What had the other Brit called him?
Ari kept her eyes shut, desperate to remember. She couldn’t focus, her thoughts slipping away as the man teased her clit with delicate strokes.
“Open your legs,” he said. “Wider.”
She did as he asked, her legs spreading to give him access.
“Your… that guy outside,” she said. “Who was that?”
“A lousy git,” the man said. “Also known as my business partner, Evan. But don’t worry; he’s a lot more bark than bite. Unlike me. I’m all bite.”
To prove it, he nipped at her shoulder. Ari barely registered the sting against her flesh. The warning in her head grew deafening, realization dropping into her stomach like a stone.
“But he… the man… Your name is Blackwell?” she asked. God, she hated the desperation in her voice, but her blood ran cold, her whole body tightening with panic and dread as the pieces clicked horribly into place.
She had to know.
He slipped his cock inside her, pumping her slow and deep. “If I am, would it change things between us terribly? I know how you feel about torrid affairs with mysterious strangers.”
No, it can’t change… it isn’t… you can’t be…
Swatting away her thoughts like gnats, Ari sank into the decadence of his touch. The raw fear coursing through her veins was mingling with the sheer pleasure this man had unlocked in her, the anticipation of another beautiful release at his command. She was out of her mind, completely at his mercy as he thrust into her, rolling his hips, hitting her just right, just exactly right.
Davidson’s warning echoed in her head. Believe me when I say there is no room for error on this one, Arianne.
She’d promised him—promised herself—she wouldn’t screw up. That she’d see the job through, deliver everything Davidson had demanded and more. And once she’d found the painting from her father’s old cache, she’d made a new promise to herself, a promise that she’d investigate it, track down her father’s killer.
It can’t be.
The man leaned forward, capturing her mouth in a decadent kiss, rocking gently against her body as he thrust his delicious cock into the pussy he’d so quickly come to possess.
No. Not him. Anyone but him.
Not this man, the one who’d brought her to the edge with every blissful stroke, who’d awakened her long-buried fantasies, who’d made her feel impossibly alive, who’d made her feel wanted.
No. This man could not be Jared Blackwell.
Billionaire benefactor.
Collector of fine art and automobiles.
Internet mogul.
One-time tabloid sensation.
And host of this evening’s thousand-dollar-a-plate fundraiser.
Otherwise known as her fucking mark.
“Tell me your name,” she whispered frantically, her body trembling beneath him. “Please?”
He kissed her neck, working his way up to her ear with a long, hot sigh. “Oh, all right. If you must know. Yes, love. I’m Jared Blackwell. And you are…?”
“In trouble.” Ari cupped his face in her hands, memorizing the feel of his stubbled jaw, the bemused look in his gorgeous honey-brown eyes, the soft curve of his full, ravishing lips. “A lot of fucking trouble.”
TO BE CONTINUED….
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nbsp; Just how much trouble can one sexy little art thief cause? Find out in Part 2 of To Tempt a Thief, coming on June 23. Can’t wait that long? Get a FREE sneak peek when you sign up for my newsletter at http://eepurl.com/bmu6qX! You’ll receive an exclusive look at chapter 1, along with future updates about new releases, contests and giveaways, and other juicy tidbits.
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Acknowledgments
THIS BOOK WOULD not exist without the friendship and support of a whole bunch of awesome, creative, amazing people. Jessie Evans, I wouldn’t have even attempted this project without your encouragement, advice, and all-around badassery. I owe you a few stiff drinks, a box of chocolates, and at least one good story (not necessarily in that order), but for now, please accept my heartfelt gratitude. Another big hug goes to Lauren Blakely—Lauren, thank you for your inspiration, kindness, and support. I’m also indebted to the book bloggers and romance readers who took a chance on me—you make my job fun, and I can’t wait to share the rest of Jared and Arianne’s story with you! And most importantly, all my love to my amazing husband, who keeps me well supplied with wine and ice cream (romance writing essentials), patiently answers my inappropriate personal questions (for research purposes, of course), and reminds me how it feels to fall in love all over again every day.
About the Author
SYLVIA PIERCE IS the author of the seductive erotic romance serial, TO TEMPT A THIEF. Sylvia loves writing about kick-ass, headstrong women and the gorgeous alpha guys who never see them coming. She believes that life should be a lot like her favorite books—smoking hot, with happy endings and lots of temptations, twists, and trouble along the way. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with a strong, sexy husband who appreciates her devious mind, loves making her laugh, and always keeps her guessing. Like the heroes in her stories, Sylvia’s man didn’t see her coming… but after fifteen years together, he’s finally figured out who’s boss!
Sylvia loves hearing from readers! Connect with her at:
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Twitter: twitter.com/xoSylviaPierce
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To Tempt a Thief 1 (The Billionaire and the Thief) Page 12