Passion’s Last Promise
(Club Aegis #4)
by
Christie Adams
@ChristieAdams
Blurb:
Hers to
protect…his to serve…
When a
failed kidnap attempt leads to CEO Dr. Simon Northwood acquiring a bodyguard,
he isn’t prepared for close protection specialist Ros Edwards, a former captain
in the Royal Military Police. Experienced submissive though he is, having a
woman stand between him and any further threat is completely untenable.
Assigned
to protect the genius behind a project of national importance, Ros unexpectedly
encounters the most delicious man she’s met in a long time. As a Domme, she’d
love to play with him, but even if he weren’t in need of her professional
skills, there’s no way he’s submissive.
A
determined man. A stubborn woman. When passion flirts with danger, the last
promise is the toughest one of all…
Buy links:
Amazon: http://getbook.at/PLP
All Romance eBooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-passion039slastpromise-1940493-147.html
Excerpt:
“Problems, Miss Edwards?”
“Not at all, Dr. Northwood.” She turned towards him and
slipped the smartphone back into her jacket pocket. “A minor logistical issue,
that’s all. Is there something I can do for you?”
“I was wondering if we were still on schedule to depart
for Oxford as planned.” From what he’d heard, Simon had his doubts.
“Of course, sir. As I said, a minor logistical issue.”
She paused, fixing him with her coolly assessing gaze. “I was just about to
make coffee—would you care to join me?”
He had a conference call in a few minutes, his third of
the day, but Simon suddenly found himself more in need of a shot of caffeine,
and another opportunity to try to goad her into going Domme on him. He’d been
trying all week, and this morning was the closest he’d come yet. He strode over
to the desk to call his PA.
“Alicia? Can you let Martin know that he’ll be handling
the finance call in ten? Give him my apologies—something’s come up that
requires my attention elsewhere. Thanks.” He replaced the receiver and turned
his attention back to his bodyguard. “I don’t mind if I do, Miss Edwards.”
She gave a brief nod in acknowledgement. He watched her
disappear into the adjoining kitchen, only to hear seconds later the crash of
breaking glass followed by the colourful and creative cursing he was coming to
associate with his beautiful bodyguard. Simon headed for the epicentre of the
disaster.
As if someone had flicked a switch, his nonchalant
attitude came to an abrupt end. Ros was running her hand under the tap, washing
away the blood that was oozing from a cut to her hand. Broken glass littered
the worktop and the floor.
Simon’s protective instincts kicked into action, sweeping
aside all thoughts of provoking her again. He grabbed the first aid kit from
one of the cupboards. “Let me help.”
“It’s all right, I can manage.”
“No—you can’t. What happened?”
To his surprise, she allowed him to take her hand in his.
Strong and capable, it was at the same time neat and feminine, with short but
immaculately manicured nails. No rings, but as he’d told himself the first time
he’d checked, that didn’t necessarily mean anything.
“Kamikaze glassware.” Ros glanced up at the open
cupboard. “When I was getting the mugs to make the coffee, I accidentally
nudged a couple of tumblers. They decided to take their name seriously and try
out for the Olympic gymnastics team. I can tell you now, their technique
sucked.”
Simon pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh at
the latest glimpse of her taste in humour. She’d caught him unawares like that
once or twice before, with a little nugget of dry wit. “What were you trying to
do? Catch them or juggle with them?”
She shot him a dark scowl. At that precise moment, she
looked more like the recipient of a sense of humour bypass, then he realised
she was more annoyed with herself.
“I was picking up the pieces. Some of the shards started
slipping out of my hands and I grabbed at them on instinct. Stupid thing to do.
At least it’s not my right hand.”
He quirked a questioning eyebrow.
“Trigger finger.” She waggled the digit at him. “Can’t
pull a trigger if I’m bandaged up.”
“Or if you end up slicing through tendons.” Simon’s
slightly harsh tone was a reflection of his discomfort at the way she spoke so
candidly of using firearms. “A dustpan and brush might have been safer than
trying to pick up the broken glass.” He nodded in the direction of the tall
corner cupboard.
For a moment she looked like she was about to argue, but
then the change in her expression and a tiny, careless shrug acknowledged the
truth of his words. Simon turned his attention to her injuries. There were some
superficial cuts but the main one wasn’t as bad as he’d first thought—she’d
probably get away without needing any stitches in it. Having confirmed there
was no glass in the wound, he pulled on some surgical gloves and ripped open a
sachet containing an antiseptic wipe.
She was standing so close now. He tried not to be
distracted by the calm rise and fall of her breasts, or the subtle floral scent
of her perfume. He tried not to respond to her steady gaze resting squarely on
him. He tried not to think of the probable reasons why a former RMP officer
never even flinched at the sting of the antiseptic.
Having put a couple of Steri-Strips on the cut, he then
made the move that was his downfall. It was the small, insignificant act of
glancing up at Ros’ face. She was staring at his hands in rapt fascination,
lips slightly parted, almost inviting a kiss.
Carpe diem. The Latin phrase blazed through Simon’s mind
like a meteor. She hadn’t responded to provocation, so perhaps a different
tactic was called for. He swept aside the memory of the altercation they’d had
a few hours earlier, focusing instead on this moment.
Simon pulled off the surgical gloves with a snap. In a
club, he’d never dream of doing what he was about to do—it went against
everything he’d been trained for, but this was an opportunity he couldn’t
afford to miss.
Before Ros could move away from him, he took her
uninjured hand in his and raised it to his lips. Before his inner voice could
convince him he was making a huge mistake, he pressed a gentle kiss to her
palm.
“Dr. Northwood.”
He wasn’t expecting the sound of his name to send a
delicious shiver through his body. The formality, though…just as guilty of that
as she was, maybe even more so, but he wanted it to end. “Simon.”
Desire would be held back no longer—he claimed the
sweetness of her mouth, and prepared to take his punishment for crashing
through her boundaries…
Author Bio:
After winning an erotic short story competition, Christie
Adams waited over twenty years to follow it up with her first full-length
erotic romance. The second publisher she approached picked it up, and after a
brief spell with them, she moved into the exciting world of indie publishing.
When she was asked about how she got into writing,
Christie realised she’s been putting pen to paper—or fingers to keyboard—for
longer than she thought. It all started in her teens, with stories featuring
characters from her favourite TV shows—usually action dramas—but in her
imagination, those characters were given a romantic life to go with the
all-action one their audiences saw.
From there, she progressed to romantic novels featuring
characters of her own invention, but success eluded her until she spotted the
erotic short story competition in a magazine.
Christie lives in north-west England. When not at the day
job, she can usually be found wrestling with the characters in her latest
novel. Occasionally she finds time for sleep, and maintains her social skills
through, among other things, regular attendance at a pub quiz, which forces her
to think about other things besides plots and characterisation.
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Muffy was born in Texas to traditional parents. With two older brothers, she was the youngest, the family "princess," indulged and pampered. Her father was a career Colonel and pilot in the U.S. Air Force which required the family to travel extensively. Muffy spent her formative years in Europe and 'came of age' in France which forged her joie de vivre and love for books and writing. Married and living in the tropical paradise of SW Florida along the Gulf Coast, Muffy writes and enjoys life in the sun with her husband and wee Havanese pup, Burt.
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artist paints a landscape. The story itself is hauntingly beautiful
By Jacquie
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Spellbinding!
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