Oh Nikki, what are you doing with us… This is another strongly hot and wonderful love story with electrifying suspense theme. Did I already told you how I love this series? I love wholeheartedly!
About the plot: Regan works as an undercover FBI agent as a sell hostess in Blindfold Club. She moved to Chicago after the failure of the previous case. It ended up with wounds to her, from which she now tries to escape. Decides to get a tattoo to cover up some of bad memories. In this way, after the recommendation she gets to Silas.
Silas Getty is an artist who started as a tattoo artist. Now he is doing tattoos only for friends and when he gets a new sexy redheaded client decides to do something special for her. They are doing the tattoo and end on sexual favors. But Regan did not want to mix her undercover life with someone she really likes. Afraid of the consequences, she does not intend to come back, until she close the cases. However, the situation becomes complicated when things are mixed together itself.
What I like? I love these books for three things. Wonderful genuine characters. Steamy and passionate non-obvious configurations in bed. And the story that pulls. There is really a lot of descriptions of erotic scenes, and in all this is still a great thrilling action.
This part is a little different from the others. Both characters are very strong. We are used to strong of male characters, but this time we also have a strong feisty redhead. They fight for dominance and control in bed and beyond. Hot not even describes what has happened here. It is intense. Spicy Crazy Thing.
These scenes are highly erotic, but everything is with great sensitivity. Creativity is a word that Nikki Sloane knows very well. I do not know if it ever ceases to amaze me. In this part she added for us yet suspense theme. So that reading was even more entertaining. Perhaps it is a little predictable, because from the beginning we know what the heroine is hiding, but still well written and I was not bored at all.
What I don’t like? One thing that I had a small problem with is the connection between the characters. This is perhaps because they are both very strong figures who fight for dominance and sometimes I miss simply… affection. For lack of a better word. Because believe me there is so much passion in it that the book will be sizzling in your hands.
Final thoughts: Forgive me if I wrote a long praise song… but I love this series and I am very pleased that there will be another book. I do not know if I can bear to part with the series. It is so hot and awesome and gives you full room of possibilities in the imagination. You’ll need new batteries! If you know what I mean. And it’s not even my favorite part!
Silas stalked forward and I had to fight the instinct to flee at his rapid approach. His shadow fell on me until he blocked all of the light, and his hands seized my face, drawing me into his brutal kiss.
His aggressive mouth moved against mine, demanding and serious. I didn’t think I had room for any more desire, but his kiss was another dose that rapidly flooded my senses. We stumbled together, lips locked, until my back was against a wall. My head thumped against it, but neither of us let up.
His hard body pressed into me, flattening me with his heat, and I hiked a leg, wrapping it behind his thigh so our bodies were tight together. The kiss deepened. It flared and burned hotter as one of his hands was on my ass, fingers digging in. The other was on my waist, pinning me in place.
He swallowed my moan when he bent his knees and thrust against me. This teasing with clothes on bullshit had to go. I both loved and hated it. He must have had the same thought. Silas put one palm flat on the wall by my head, and the other slid down the front of my jeans.
“Fuck, yes,” I whispered. I planted both feet back on the ground. My fingers were clumsy as I tore my snap open and unzipped, pushing the fly of my pants open wide so he could get in there.
“Shit, your mouth is hot as hell.”
“When it’s being direct?” I gazed up at him while his fingers burrowed deeper inside my panties. “Or when it’s sucking your cock?”
His hand shifted and the fingers stirred, touching me right on my clit. “Both.”
I clutched at his chest, digging into his solid form, and curled my hands into fists so I could yank him back to me using his t-shirt. I did it so hard, I heard threads ripping. Shit.
“Hope this shirt wasn’t one of your favorites.”
“It’s rapidly becoming that,” he whispered against my mouth.
Then he kissed me so hard my eyes slammed shut, and there was nothing to do but stand there and endure it. I didn’t like to be dominated, but trapped against the wall by this enormous, sexy man . . . wasn’t quite so bad.
When his kiss let up, his fingers buried inside my pants twitched. It was the tiniest of movements, but my whole body shuddered in response. My eyes flew open and I reeled, searching and finding him. I was dizzy with need, and shifted my hips, urging him to move his hand again.
But his thick fingers just sat there, pressed against my damp, aching pussy, not moving. I needed relief. I was desperate for someone else to get me off beside myself. His eyes weren’t locked onto mine. His gaze seemed to be studying my mouth and the way I struggled for breath.
He stared at my lips like he wanted to devour them. The hunger in his expression was erotic. I swallowed dryly. The throbbing between my legs was reaching epic meltdown, and both of my hands locked on his wrist to force him to move.
“You like to be in charge?” His voice was low and seductive. “That’s too bad, Regan. So do I.”
In my frenzied state, I was slow. His hand withdrew from me, and before I could form the protest, he caught both of my wrists and shoved them up over my head, pinning them to the wall. His large, strong hands crossed my wrists, and he secured them both in the grip of one hand.
My breath caught. His silver eyes were rimmed with a darker blue at the outer edge of his irises, and it was hauntingly beautiful. He watched me as his freehand caressed over my belly, and dipped beneath the edge of my panties once more.
“I think you want this almost as badly as I do, Regan. You’re going to take your clothes off because I’m putting my hands on your fucking body in a few seconds, and you don’t want me to ruin your clothes.”
He left me standing there in surprise and went back to the table. He picked up the charcoal pencil and rubbed it between his palms, covering his hands with even more black dust.
It was impossible to have friction without heat, and it flickered through my body, warming all the way down to my toes. He’d told me to take off my clothes, but it was really a choice. I could stay as I was and call his bluff, do as he asked, or walk away.
What would those dark hands do? Would they leave perfect black handprints against my ivory skin? The image was too powerful to deny. I locked my gaze on him, only breaking it for a moment as I tore my sweater up over my head.
Lust made his eyes heavy as he watched me shed the plain white t-shirt, and work the snap of my jeans. I tugged them off and tossed them to the floor with aggression. “Okay, done. Put your filthy goddamn hands on me.”
Fire flared so hot, it made the room scorching. He came at me, but I held my ground. His hands lifted to cup my face—wait, no. That wasn’t his intent. I inhaled sharply when he put both hands around my neck.
I fought the instinct to break his hold. There wasn’t any tension in his fingers as his hands wrapped around my throat, they simple rested there. It was dominating, but it was exciting, too.
When he released me, Silas made a noise of satisfaction. The sight of his black handprints on my skin obviously pleased him. My pulse sped to a million miles an hour. Did these handprints ringing my neck look like a collar? Like he owned me?
“The bra,” he said on a hurried breath. “Take it off.” He gazed at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d seen, and my hands moved instantly. The clasp was undone and I slipped the straps down my shoulders, letting the bra fall away. My exposed breasts felt heavy and aching for his touch, which he seemed eager to do.
He filled the weight of one in his hand, pressing his dark, rough palm against my pale skin. As he peeled his fingers away, we both looked down and admired the perfect gray handprint he’d left. God, it was sexy. He instantly did the other breast so I had a matching set.
“That looks fucking amazing,” he said. “Stay right like that.” And then he hurried for his camera.
About the Author:
Nikki Sloane landed in graphic design after her careers as a waitress, a screenwriter, and a ballroom dance instructor fell through. For eight years she worked for a design firm in that extremely tall, black, and tiered building in Chicago that went through an unfortunate name change during her time there. Now she lives in Kentucky and manages a team of graphic artists. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America, is married with two sons, writes dirty books, and couldn’t be any happier.
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