boyanna

Frantic Reader #47901

Fate laid out your life for you like a dress on a bed, and you could either wear it or go naked....

I go naked.



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Spirit - Brigid Kemmerer Excerpt from Spirit:
*(part of Spirit Blog Tour!)

Hunter had made it to the parking lot by the time Kate caught up to him. The sun had burned off the clouds, and she felt heat prick at her neck. She grabbed Hunter by the arm.
“Are you insane?” she hissed. “I thought you really broke that kid’s arm. What was the point of all—”
“Now he’s afraid of me. I need them to be afraid of me.”
She wished Hunter would just stop and talk to her. “Why?”
“Because Calla always had the upper hand, and that meant people got hurt. I need time to figure out what else they’re planning.” He shoved a key into the door of his jeep. “To figure out where she might be hiding.”
“Damn it, Hunter, if you’re going to work with me, then you need to work with me. You need to tell me what you’re doing. We don’t work like—”
He turned and caught her arms. She tensed to retaliate—but then she realized she didn’t need to fight him off.
Because he was kissing her.
She lost a moment to sheer surprise. His hands were strong and gentle at the same time, sliding under her jacket to trap her waist—not that there was any danger of her going anywhere right this second. She couldn’t read him at all today. First, she’d thought he hated her, then he was brutalizing that kid, and now . . . now . . .
Her back hit the side of his jeep before she even realized he’d turned her. The heat of the sunlight became a living thing, tracing power down her skin to match the sparks from his lips against hers. He was pressed against her, almost full length, his hands creeping up her sides to send heat through her body in a way that had nothing to do with sunlight or power. Silver could have had a gun trained on her right that instant, and she wouldn’t have cared.
Hunter tasted like cinnamon and smelled like the woods, pine and bark and something very male. His mouth was so sure, and when his tongue brushed hers, a sound escaped her lips. He did it again, letting his thumbs trace over her breasts so lightly that she found herself arching into him. Suddenly she wished they were somewhere else, somewhere private, with curtains and less clothing and—
Hunter broke the kiss. Her breathing was quick, loud and desperate in the space between them.
He closed his hands on her waist again, and turned her away from his car.
Her brain was spinning its wheels, trying to find traction.
Hunter leaned close. “Just to be clear: I’d know exactly what to do if you threw yourself at me.”
Then he was in his car, starting the ignition, leaving her in the parking lot, nothing more than a melted puddle of hot, bothered, and seriously pissed off.