Happy release day to Jill Shalvis – Accidentally on Purpose, book 3 in the Heartbreaker Bay series, is out now!
There’s no such thing as a little in love…
Elle Wheaten’s priorities: friends, career, and kick-ass shoes. Then there’s the muscular wall of stubbornness that’s security expert Archer Hunt—who comes before everything else. No point in telling Mr. “Feels-Free Zone” that, though. Elle will just see other men until she gets over Archer . . . which should only take a lifetime . . .
There’s no such thing as a little in lust…
Archer’s wanted the best for Elle ever since he sacrificed his law-enforcement career to save her. But now that she’s earned happiness and success, Archer just wants Elle 24/7. Their chemistry could start the next San Francisco Earthquake, and Archer doesn’t want to be responsible for the damage. The alternative? Watch her go out with guys who aren’t him . . .
There is such a thing as…
As far as Archer’s concerned, nobody is good enough for Elle. But when he sets out to prove it by sabotaging her dates, she gets mad—and things get hot as hell. Now Archer has a new mission: prove to Elle that her perfect man has been here all along…
He whipped around to face her before she could find her sea legs, his expression dark and unreadable.
“What was that?” he demanded.
Planting her feet—or rather, her heels—she went hands on hips. That was the only way to deal with him, just like one would when faced with an animal in the wild. Make herself as big and tall as she could and refuse to back down.
But as for what had come over her, honestly, she had absolutely zero idea. Maybe temper that he could read her like a map. Definitely frustration because he wound her up so tight that she sometimes fantasized about him deep in the night. Or all the time. And the hardest one to admit—embarrassment that she felt this way at all. If he ever found out, he’d be horrified and she’d have to move to Siberia.
“Oh, please,” she scoffed, trying to hide her shame. Her only regret was that she hadn’t bitten him harder. “Don’t even try to tell me I hurt you. You’re impenetrable. A rock.”
“You think I can’t be hurt?” he asked with a whisper of disbelief.
“I think you don’t let it show if you are.” She didn’t realize they were literally toe-to-toe and nose-to-nose until she drew a deep breath and felt her chest brush his.
“What would know you about my feelings, Elle?” he asked very, very quietly, his warm breath brushing her temple.
And just like that, a new kind of tension came over her, something else as well, something that skittered along every single nerve ending in her body.
“Nothing,” she said. “I know nothing of your feelings because you’re an island to me.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re Siberia.”
“What the hell does that mean?” she demanded. “Are you saying I’m cold?”
Which was funny because she was so mad she was hot and she couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, so she crossed her arms tight over herself, closing off, which was of course proving his words. And only because maybe way deep down she did want to know his feelings, wanted to know them more than anything, wanted to know that she mattered to him, that she could reach him, that she could indeed hurt him, she poked him in a hard pec.
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “Stop.”
Yeah, that would have been the wise thing to do. Definitely. But she’d never been all that wise when it came to him so she used her free hand to tell him he was number one. With her middle finger. “How’s that for icy, you overgrown, knuckle-dragging oaf—”
Swearing beneath his breath, he caught that wrist too and stepped into her, making her not only shut the hell up but also stumble back a few steps, off balance. A tree came up against her back and Archer used that to his advantage, pinning her there with lots of solid muscle.
Her breath caught. At the sound he froze, his gaze going heavy lidded as he stared at her mouth. Then he planted both hands flat on the huge tree on either side of her, framing her shoulders as he let out a long, careful exhale, resting his cheek against her hair.
“You drive me crazy,” he murmured, his voice reverberating through his chest and into hers.
The words were such a contrast to his actions that it took her mind a moment to catch up. “Yeah, well, right back at you,” she managed, thrown off by the effortless way he was leaning into her, holding her there with his weight, completely immobilizing her. And that wasn’t her biggest problem . . .
It was turning her on.
He started to do just that and she would never in a million years be able to explain what she did next. She fisted her hands in his shirt, lifted her face, and . . .kissed him.
She felt his big body jerk in shock and tightened her grip, making a shockingly needy little whimper and he stilled. In the next beat he banded his arms around her and kissed her back. He kissed her slow and deep, taking his sweet-ass time about it too.
Tendrils of undeniable pleasure coursed through her, melting her bones away. She was still angry. So angry. And yet she couldn’t even remember why. That, coupled with her own sexual frustration and need, God, so much need, she literally went blank. Well, her brain did.
Not her body.
Her body reacted like it’d been deprived of touch for years, which was actually true. She moved against him, writhed really, trying desperately to get even closer, winding her arms around his neck to pull him into a better position to keep kissing him. When their tongues touched, they generated so much heat she nearly went up in flames and she tried to climb his body like he was a jungle gym. This wrenched a groan from deep in his throat.
Sexiest sound ever.