Samba (n): danced to a quick, fast-paced beat, with rapid steps and a rocking, sexy swaying motion; typically has a dramatic climax
Whether Sophie Fuentes wants to admit it or not, her life has irrevocably changed ever since undercover DEA agent Max Romano blew into it. And now that she knows the truth about who he really is, everything has changed all over again. Nothing is as she thought it was. There is no one left she can trust. All she knows for sure is that she wants nothing at all to do with Max and his lies.
Max knows he screwed up majorly with Sophie. But he’s not about to let her shut him out, not when her very life is in danger. She can yell at him, she can hate him, but she can’t deny the way her body responds to him. It might be wrong, but he’s going to use the passion that burns so brightly between them to his advantage. He’ll push her to the brink of her desire until she has no choice but to forgive him.
Their fire burns hotter than ever. The stakes have never been higher. The danger has never been deadlier. But what scares Max the most is that he has no idea what’s coming for them next.
**This is a SHORT story series. Each volume is a short story serial and is an average of 30,000 words. This is NOT a full-length novel series.**
Max pierces me with that killing gaze again. “I need to talk to you.”
I see Ian shoot his partner a warning glare out of the corner of my eye. I shake my head. “No, thanks.”
Max slowly shakes his head. “I wasn’t asking.”
Before I can refuse again, he not-so-calmly stalks forward, takes my arm, and hauls me through the back door. My temper is about to reach a boiling point by the time he pins me against the siding of the house.
I shove against his chest, though it doesn’t do much. “Back off, Max. I think you’ve reached your manhandling quota for the evening, don’t you?”
“Enough, Sophie. I know you don’t trust me, I know you think everything that happened between us was a lie, and I know you won’t forgive me. But right now, I’m just trying to do my damn job.”
I don’t want his words to hurt, but ay, they do.
“That’s right. I was just a job to you all along, wasn’t I?”
His features twist. “You fucking know you aren’t. You never were.”
“Then what was I?”
He presses his palms against the siding, caging me between his muscular arms. “You were a complication.”
I feel my eyes bug out of my skull, and I shove him hard. “You are a complete—”
He grabs both of my wrists with one hand, stilling me. “A complication I didn’t ignore, like I should have. Don’t you get it? I should have left you alone, Sophie. But I pursued you and got involved anyway, to the detriment of my investigation. I should have already been fired for some of the shit I’ve done over the past few days. But I couldn’t stay away from you. That had nothing to do with my job.”
I narrow my eyes. “That’s bullshit. You knew I had something on Diego. You kept me around, working your angle to see if you could get me to spill because it benefitted you. Then you got even more than you bargained for with what you heard on that yacht, and now you have to keep me around.”
“Believe me, if I’d had even the slightest idea what it was you were hiding, I would have locked you away in a safe house in fucking Nova Scotia the moment I met you.” His forehead creases. “I may have wanted to fuck you from the first second I saw you, but I want to keep you alive above all else. My feelings for you wouldn’t have mattered if I’d known the truth about what you saw that night from the beginning. I would have pawned you off on someone else and let you go in order to keep you safe.”
I can’t hear that he has feelings for me. Can’t allow myself to become convinced that it’s the truth and not just more lies.
“Is that supposed to ingratiate yourself to me?” I challenge. “You admitting you would have sacrificed your supposed feelings if it had been safer for me?”
He absently caresses the back of my hand with his thumb. “I think deep down you know it’s true. I think that even though you might be conflicted, you can work out a lot of my lies from the truth for yourself. Because you know me, Sophie. Even though you didn’t know my real name and occupation until this morning, you know me.”
I have no idea who he is. The man who loaned my little sister his dog and learned how to cook from his head-over-heels in love parents is a falsity. The man who fits me so well when we dance, who showed me the kind of passion that comes along maybe once in a lifetime, who made me fall desperately in love with him, is a figment of my imagination. He doesn’t exist. He’s just a nameless figure trapped somewhere in the limbo of my mind.
Traveler. Reader. Beach-goer. St. Louis Cardinals fan. Pasta-obsessed. North Carolina resident. Sarcastic. Bit of a nerd.
Author of the Cruz Brothers, Possession and Politics, and Timid Souls series, Melanie loves all things romance, comedies and suspense in particular because it’s boring to only stick to one sub-genre! From light-hearted comedies to sexy thrillers, she likes to mix it up, but loves her some strong alpha males and sassy heroines.
Go visit Melanie’s website and sign up for her newsletter to stay updated on release dates, teasers, and other details for all of her projects!
Rumba (n): the dance of love, a tale of passion, the ultimate romantic connection between two people
Sophie Fuentes is supposed to be getting her family out of Miami. She is not supposed to be falling head over heels in lust—or is it love?—with LA drug boss, Max Ramirez. Especially not when she can’t tell if he’s an angel sent to save her, or the devil sent to destroy her.
Undercover DEA agent Max Romano wants Sophie’s secrets. All of them. And not just for his investigation. The more he knows about her, the better he can protect her from the dangers that threaten her.
The only problem is, he’s not ready for her to learn all of his secrets. And when she finally discovers the truth behind all of his lies, his entire world explodes into chaos.
Sophie returns to the table with a coy grin but doesn’t take her seat. Instead, she holds out her hand, challenging me with her caramel eyes. “Supongo que sabes rumba, Señor Ramirez?” I assume you know how to rumba, Mr. Ramirez?
I inwardly cringe at the use of my false name, especially after the very personal and very true emotional bomb I just dropped. But I sense what she’s doing, and I’m grateful for her insight. She knew the memory had been too much for me to share. Could feel my overwhelming sadness and didn’t push me further. Instead, she’s giving me an out. A way of not talking about it and pushing the reset button.
I take her hand and rise.
But not before plucking one of the red roses from the vase on the table.
She twirls slowly, once, before allowing me to take her in my arms and assume the close embrace position of the dance. The red rose is trapped between our connected hands. Our feet are practically locked together as we glide over the wooden floor. Not smoothly like a waltz, not with purpose like a samba or salsa. But a sensual sway against each other, our bodies moving fluidly to the quick-quick-slow tempo of the rumba rhythm.
Her hips swerve slowly.
Her hands caress sensuously.
Her eyes glaze carnally.
Then she goes into a dip and wraps her leg around my waist, the slit in her dress rising dangerously high. That’s when I feel her heat…rubbing directly against my hardening dick.
“You wearing panties, Sophie?”
Her eyes droop. “Barely.”
I groan. “I feel you. You’re so hot, baby.”
Her brow furrows as she bites her lip. “And you’re hard.” I thrust my hips on her last whispered word, making her gasp. “Ay, so hard.”
“You’re wet for me, aren’t you?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
That wanton comment spikes my blood. Sophie is an irresistibly sexual being. Everything she does reminds a man of what she would feel like wrapped around him. I can’t resist her when she’s spewing attitude and sass in my face, spitting Spanish curses with all that Latina fire. But this sexually bold side of her? The side that’s pliant and opening like a spring blossom in my arms?
I will never want anything more desperately than this woman.
“I think this dress was specifically made for you to torture me with.”
“You chose it.”
And thank God for that. “I must be a masochist. You’re exquisite in it, but I’ve never hated a dress so much in my fucking life.”
I clamp my hand around her waist tighter at the sound of her light chuckle. This heavenly creature in my arms fills me with emotions that are more hedonistic in nature than angelic. The power of her tempting flesh is consuming me to the point of debauchery on a primal, animalistic level. The need to own every part of her, body and soul, is poisoning me down to my core. She’s corrupting my very being.
Traveler. Reader. Beach-goer. St. Louis Cardinals fan. Pasta-obsessed. North Carolina resident. Sarcastic. Bit of a nerd. Author of the Cruz Brothers, Possession and Politics, and Timid Souls series, Melanie loves all things romance, comedies and suspense in particular because it’s boring to only stick to one sub-genre! From light-hearted comedies to sexy thrillers, she likes to mix it up, but loves her some strong alpha males and sassy heroines. Go visit Melanie’s website and sign up for her newsletter to stay updated on release dates, teasers, and other details for all of her projects!