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Wicked and Worshipped

WICKED LOVERS: SOLDIERS FOR HIRE (ONE MILE & BREA: THE COMPLETE DUET)

Bad boy sniper Pierce “One-Mile” Walker takes one look at good girl preacher’s daughter Brea Bell and decides to make her his—regardless of the obstacles in his path. Wicked and Worshipped is their complete, uncensored story. This collection contains:

Wicked as Sin – She begged him to rescue his enemy from death. In exchange, he demanded her body…
Wicked Ever After – The good girl is keeping a secret? He’ll seduce it out of her until she begs to be his.



Box Sets SERIES

EXCERPT

Pierce’s hands dropped to her hips. “Would you rather do something besides play pool?”
   Yes, please. “No. This is fine.”
His fingers tightened on her. The heat of his touch penetrated the khaki twill of her shorts. Suddenly, she found it hard to breathe.
“Then turn and bend over the table again.” He waited until she complied, and Brea was achingly aware of his body heat bracketing the backs of her thighs, of the sexual stirrings his closeness roused. “You’re right-handed?”
“Um, yes.”
“With that hand, hold the cue about five inches from the bottom. Now place it near your hip. Don’t hold it so tight. You want to be relaxed but controlled. Good. Align your body with the cue ball. This will help your aim. Exactly. With your left hand, make a V with your thumb and index finger, like this.” He demonstrated. “You’ll balance the tip of the cue in that crevice.”
Brea watched, acutely aware of the veins bulging in his forearms, the size of his hands, the length of his fingers, the hair dusting his knuckles.
Then he took hold of her hips again. “Spread your legs, pretty girl.”
Her stomach tightened. “Why?”
“Your feet are too close together. You’ll find it hard to stabilize when you take your shot. Go on. Yeah, just like that.    Now lay the rest of the fingers of your left hand on the table and make a bridge for the V to rest on. You got it.”
“Now what?” she asked.
Brea only half listened to his answer. She was excruciatingly aware of his body heat blistering her, of his hips packed against her backside as he leaned over and utterly surrounded her with his big body.
“That means you need to bend over a bit more.”
“Oh,” she breathed as she rushed to comply.
“Good. Now hold the cue steady and eye the ball. Like that.” He sounded hoarse as his fingers gripped her tighter.  Then he pressed his entire chest over her back and breathed against her neck. A shiver wracked her. “Hold still. Yeah.  Now take your shot.”
How the devil was she supposed to concentrate when he was all over her? When his musky scent swam in her head and she kept closing her eyes to drink him in? It was hard to concentrate on balancing the cue when her body kept urging her to press back into him with a moan.
But Brea did her best.
The tip of her stick barely poked the cue ball. The white orb rolled lazily across the table, made a polite clap with the first of the balls in the triangle, barely jostling them before rolling away.
“Not a bad first effort. Next time, put a little more force into it.” He eased away, seemingly reluctant to put space between them.
“It was horrible.” She straightened, and her hungry stare climbed him again. “Show me what I should have done?”
He hesitated, then set his pool cue aside. “You didn’t come to play pool. Cutter made you promise not to talk to me, so why are you here?”
“To thank you.” She blushed.
“You could have left cookies for me at the office. But you came to my house. On a Friday night. With your hair curled and your makeup done, wearing pretty white lace.” Pierce fingered the scooped neck of her top before he wrapped his hand around her neck and tilted her face up to meet his stare. “Look me in the eye and tell me why you’re here.”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. You’re afraid to admit it.”
Goodness, Pierce could see right through her.
She swallowed. “Terrified.”
His fingers on the back of her neck tightened. “I’m more than happy to give you what you want, but you have to look me in the eye and say it out loud.”
Brea dug her nails into his forearms, her heart pounding. “I don’t understand.”
“I won’t settle for less than your enthusiastic consent when I take you to bed.”