length epilogue for Rafe and Peyton, Brooklyn and Delaney, and Calder and
Vegas strip. Their desire is taboo in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.
Ravens and almost suspended from the NFL. The sexy center remains a fan
favorite now that he’s playing for Carolina Crush. And what Calder wants more
than anything is to prove his worth to the team that’s his last chance, the
family he disgraced, and the one woman he fell in love with years ago.
babe he wants was never his for the taking—for reasons that make him question
Air Force widow, a strong woman who’s piecing her life back together . . . And
maybe the man she always thought was out of her league and completely
off-limits just became fair game.
Reggie don’t stay in Vegas?
bastard of a mood when the doorbell rang after I’d dropped the two
hundred-pound weight onto the rest. My chest burning, my ribs wracked with
agony, I curled up to my feet. Thought about a shirt. Thought, fuck it. It was probably just Brooks.
my watchdog, checking in regularly, inviting me to his place for dinner with
him and Delaney, keeping the door open in case I needed to talk to someone
other than my sponsor.
through the house, I absentmindedly swiped at the sweat on my chest with the
towel I held.
went fully hard in an instant.
the towel in front of me, one hand notched on the doorframe, my chest bare,
Reggie’s chin barely reaching my shoulders.
flattened as my heartbeat thudded in my chest.
that had broken open in that alley with Brooklyn I’d sealed back under. Until
this precise moment when Reggie lifted a bag in her hand and a smile on her
lips when I was pretty sure I’d never looked more threatening.
some time off. Recuperation.” She angled a leg in tight faded jeans toward me.
“Sore tendon. Figured you’d know how to put me back together right as rain with
your PT background.”
Hooking the end of the towel into the waistband of my shorts, I rasped my hands
across the dark shade of stubble on my jaw, and she watched every goddamn
stroke. “You don’t look injured.”
Her gaze—challenging—dropped to the bruise on my ribs.
to check up on me.”
I did?” She shrugged one shoulder.
have to worry about me anymore.”
just turn it off, Calder.”
need or want your help.” I tried to maintain the barrier, nearly snarling at
cast her eyes beyond me. “Are you going to invite me inside like an old friend
under my arm. Smiling.
door, I sealed my body against it. “What are you really doing here?”
said you’d accept my calls.” She dropped her bags. Stood with hands on hips.
“You lied to me.”
I do, sweetheart.” Determined to piss her off so she’d leave because danger
lurked in the dark spaces of my mind.
forgotten she reacted like a lioness when cornered.
steps, Reggie was up against me, in my face.
serve her up on a silver platter and plant my face between her thighs.
her against me in my bed, blankets all around, my arms a cradle.
hooked mine with nothing but unwavering intensity. “You have driven everyone away, Calder.” Her stance
blended her against me, and she had to feel the heat—the need and arousal—she
spiked in my body.
time.” Bleak, no longer dreamy eyes, rose to mine. “I’m not losing you to
self-pity or self-loathing or any other kind of hate you keep wrapping around
I’d met my match.
it all along.
enough to lose.” Her voice dropped, but her finger pointed at my chest before
she spread her fingers over my careening heart. “And you have a choice in the matter.”
unerring words, I went stock-still.
A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around.
You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website https://www.riewarren.com.