Perfect summertime romance!
Ambitious workaholic Jane MacInnee is about to meet her match in the slow, confident hands of the bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks she's never been able to forget.
Jane MacInnee left her small town roots behind when she started her own event planning business. Now she's aimed at the stratosphere with her newest, richest client. All she has to do is maintain the white-knuckled control and perky smile that got her this far from her backwoods hometown. No one wants anything else from her.
Except Finn Dante.
Former Ranger, now high-end pawnshop owner and low down alpha man, Finn has plans for Jane the moment their paths cross eleven years later. He knows he doesn't need to chase her down. He just needs to show her what she's made of. Unwind her, slow and hot. And never let up, not even when she begs him. Because he's been waiting for Janey Mac to come undone his whole life.
Grab your copy of SPIN's sexy summertime romance now!
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[A]ll I was aware of was Finn. His hard body leaning back against the truck, his short hair tousled by a breeze, his palms shoved down into his pockets, his forearms roped with lean muscle.
He seemed completely comfortable with the silence spreading out between us.
I was not.
I remembered this about him. He’d stand in the middle of the chaos of a town event like the heart of a cyclone. All around, men and boys would be whooping and hollering, shooting off their mouths and sometimes their guns. The women would be talking, children would be screaming, music would be playing, and Finn would stand in the center of it all, of it and yet somehow beyond it all.
Me, I plunged right into the thick of all that noise and energy. I thrived on it. I aimed for noise and energy and movement and endless distraction.
Silence might be a problem.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” I said, looking at the house.
He kept looking at the house too. “Really?”
My face flushed. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to detect it from the general summer swelter making everything else on me sweaty and flushed.
“You sure about that?” he asked, his voice low.
We turned our heads and looked at each other.
“Looking for trouble?” I suggested my own motives somewhat weakly.
“I don’t do that very much,” I told him.
He rolled his hip against the truck, turning to me. “Janey, you’ve been looking for trouble since the day you were born.”
I opened my mouth to say that was ridiculous, then shut it again. He’d taken his sunglasses off, and I could see his eyes. A definite point of vulnerability for me, Finn’s blue eyes. Hard to lie when I was peering into them.
So instead, I snorted. “Me? What about you?”
His eyes searched mine, then he said quietly, “It’s not hard to find trouble if you’re looking.”
“No, I guess not.” We were quiet for a minute. “Are you looking, Finn?”
He rested his elbow on the roof of the truck. “Yeah. I like your trouble.”
“Oh.” Heat spread down my body like a river starting up.
“And you like mine.”
“I don’t know what makes you say that,” I said primly.
He laughed. “You’re the one who kissed me, Janey.”
I laughed too. “I was thirteen. I lost my mind.”
“You did it again when you were eighteen.”
I stared up into his eyes. “So I lost it twice,” I said weakly.
He dropped his arm and tugged a loose strand of my hair between two fingers. “Lose it again,” he said, low and rough.
I was helpless against that voice.
So I went up on my toes and touched my lips to his, just like when we were kids. And just like when we were kids, he hit me like lightning—electric, straight through the center of me.
“All gone,” I whispered.
His arm clamped around my back. “My turn,” he said, and put his hot mouth on mine.
Finally. I felt like cheering. Eleven years. How long could someone wait?
Wait, what? I’d been waiting?
I didn’t have time to focus on that, because his kiss was taking all my attention. It was nothing like what I’d expected. I thought he’d devour me, eat me alive. I wanted him to devour me. But he was…tasting me.
Soft, tiny fire kisses, lighting me up like there were embers deep in my belly. Touch, brush, touch, brush, he kissed from one side of my mouth to the other, a tiny stroke of his tongue here and there, like he was painting my lips.
“Oh,” I whispered, shocked and trembling at the gentleness, and as my mouth was open to whisper, he slid his tongue inside.
Hot and slippery and slow and deep, he explored me with licks and strokes, teeth and tongue. Chills shot across my breasts, making my nipples almost painfully hard. I felt fired up, dangerous, and wanting more.
I wrapped my hands around his neck and might have sort of tried to climb up his body. He seemed to get the hint, because he pushed me back against the side of the truck and stepped between my legs. His erection was hard between us and he rocked his hips into me.
I felt like a storm brewing. “I feel like I could do anything,” I whispered, my wrist slung around his neck.
“Go for it.”
“Last time you said that, you meant for me to stick my hand down your pants.”
He smiled down at me. “Yeah, that’s what I mean now.”
I laughed, feeling reckless and dizzy, and slid my hand down to the bulge in his jeans. “Like this?” I asked, trembling inside.
“Close.” He splayed the hand around my spine and started tipping me backward.
I flattened my palm against his chest. “Don’t you have neighbors?”
He paused, mid-lean. “One, not many. Two, they’re pretty far away. Three, I don’t care.”
I nodded and slid my hand down his stomach. It was hard under the thin cotton. I pulled his shirt up and slid my fingers down him, to the button of his jeans.
“Well, if there’s not many and they’re far away and we don’t care….”
“We don’t care at all,” he said in a hoarse voice as I went down on my knees.