Eva smiled. “Are you kidding?” She reached a hand out and ran it across his abs, under his cut, and around his back. Will groaned as even this touch made his lust start boiling for her. “I’m done being jealous of my books. I want some adventures of my own.”
Will wrapped his hand around her waist and pulled her into him. “I think I can help with that.” He cupped her jaw and ran a soft thumb across her pale skin before he leaned his lips into hers, kissing her with slow, deliberate passion as she clung to him tighter.
It was only a few seconds before the men in the room erupted into ludicrous cat-calls, whistles, and howling as they watched Will and Eva kiss. They tried to ignore it, but the longer they did, the louder everyone became until he and Eva both broke down into embarrassed laughter as the MC got riled up. Sometimes, Will forgot how much of himself he kept hidden from the people in his life—this was the first time the MC had ever seen him with a woman who wasn’t just a casual fuck.
“Well done, sir!” Jase clapped from the pool table.
Will shook his head and looked down at Eva with apologetic eyes. “Welcome to the jungle, I suppose.”
“If Will’s going monogamous, tell the house ladies I’m taking his spot as the club’s sex-crazed maniac,” said Ghost, raising his beer in the air. “To my dick, and all its future successes!” Before he could take a drink, someone threw an empty beer can at him, making him spill his beer with a curse.
Will shot Eva a glance, worried about how she’d react to Ghost’s mention of his prior sex life, but Eva surprised him again by laughing full and loud, with only a little embarrassment on her flushed cheeks. She tucked her head against Will’s chest and he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer, planting a kiss on top of her head as he led her into the den to make introductions.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bestselling author Sienna Valentine grew up in Canada and still lives there, spending her time reading and writing. Steamy romance has always been her favorite genre, and now finds that the only thing more satisfying than dreaming up her fantasies in the first place, is writing them down and being able to share them with others.
You can find Sienna on facebook here:
www.facebook.com/Sienna-Valentine-429498083819222
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would to thank all of my wonderful readers who have given me a chance to live my dream of writing for a living. I hope that each book I write is better than the last so that I never disappoint you.
I would also like to thank my ARC and Beta readers that were very helpful in pointing out issues that my own eyes passed over after multiple edits. It’s so helpful having a group of wonderful women that are eager to read my sometimes unfinished and unpolished work and give me constructive feedback. You are all very patient and I appreciate every one of you!
ALSO BY SIENNA
Desperados
Sanctum (Black Dogs MC Book 1)
Slade: A Stepbrother Romance
With Aubrey St. Clair
Fighting for Salvation
Trust
Silver and Chrome (coming in October)
Excerpt From Slade
SLADE
~ PROLOGUE ~
Slade
“Slade, wait… I’m a virgin.”
That’s what Iris said to me two months ago, when we were in the same position then—only that first time, her ass wasn’t on the kitchen counter of her parents’ pool house. Our parents’ pool house.
The first time we’d fucked had been in her bed, still made up in frilly comforters and pillows and being watched by the stuffed animals on her shelves. You would’ve never guessed Iris Walker was eighteen years old. Not by the way she still clung to her innocence like it was her very own lifeboat.
Maybe that was what lust was to her—a deep, dark ocean just waiting to swallow her up. Maybe I was the shark circling her little raft, and she’d been chumming the waters with her creamy thighs, her raven hair, but most of all, those smoking-hot lips of hers.
Whenever she wrapped ‘em around a straw and puckered, I damn near saw God. They were so full, so succulent, like ripe peach flesh just dying for me to take a bite. She’d sweep her tongue across them every so often, a little pink dart of motion that always drew my attention, always beckoned me to steal a glance at her big, innocent brown eyes and sultry pout.
She was sex on two very long legs, and she didn’t even know it. She was also my stepsister.
And that was exactly why I had to get inside her.
It took months. Months of teasing. Months of half-joking innuendos and smoldering glares as I passed her in the halls of the house we both shared. Ever since my father had married her whore mother, Iris and I had been trapped together like two animals in the same cage. Proximity could be dangerous, and I was going to make damn sure Iris felt every ounce of the danger she was in the longer she shared my cage.
I was leaving soon. I was headed to Harvard at twenty-one, young, dumb, and full of cum, but also a goddamn genius. That was what everyone had always called me, anyway. Especially my mom, the saint of a woman my father had promptly forgotten all about the moment he caught sight of Ms. Evelyn Walker.
Call me Evie, she’d said the first time we’d met, when my father brought her to the same house Mom died in and wanted me to shake this strange woman—this homewrecker’s hand. Call me Evie. Yeah, right. Like I was ever gonna call her anything other than Evelyn, the Harpy, Evelyn, the Interloper, Evelyn, the Bitch Who Stuck Her Nose Where It Didn’t Belong.
How Iris had come out of that was beyond me. Kellan, too, her little brother—thirteen and all smiles and smart as a whip—he was a good kid. He was always looking at me, watching what I did. I liked basketball, so now he’d started to play. I was good at Call of Duty, so he’d begged his mom to get him the game so he could be just as good as me. I tried to set a good example for him, praising his good grades and making a big deal out of how great it was to go to medical school. “Don’t let any assholes ever tell you A’s are for nerds,” I’d say, and he’d nod, eyes bright as I helped him with his homework. That kid was going places, and I wanted to make sure he had someone he could look to for how to get there.
Which was why I kind of felt bad about leading my stepsister on.
Because what I told her was that it was love. That I couldn’t get her off my mind in a romantic sort of way. That ever since I’d lain eyes on my eighteen-year-old stepsister with the body of a twenty-five-year-old supermodel, I’d been smitten.
And poor Iris, with her stuffed teddies and her never-been-touched, blushing cheeks—she’d believed me. She’d bought the fantasy I was selling. Hook, line, and sinker.
But it was for the greater good. I just couldn’t tell her that.
Not then, when she’d looked at me with wide eyes and her heart in her throat, telling me she was a virgin and to take it slow, and we’d fumbled with each other’s clothes and knocked teeth when we kissed.
And not now, either, with her up on the kitchen counter, her legs spread, toned thighs quivering, her bikini bottom on the floor and her tits pulled out of her top.
“Slade, wait… I’m a virgin,” she’d said two months ago.