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Wet and WildWET AND WILD, Prequel in the Rough and Tumble Series

Everyone at the Rough & Tumble Saloon has a secret…

When Reece Marlow, the ex water polo Olympian athlete, hit Las Vegas, he hit it hard—gambling, carousing, and making it a point to have sex at every Sin City landmark. Some might say he’s trying to play away the emptiness he feels from leaving his superstar career behind, but Reece is fending off even bigger secrets—ones that could potentially ruin his high-flying, endorsement-filled life.

When he meets Talia McCarter at the Rough & Tumble, he doesn’t know that she’s fighting her own inner demons, but these two are bound to light the desert nights on fire with their hot romance—and maybe find love in the flames…

Available at: Kindle | iBooks

 


Excerpt from WET AND WILD

This was truly freedom, Reece thought.

Having a woman at his fingertips, staying out as late as he damned well wanted to without a curfew, without having to stay away from foods and drinks that corrupted his body and took away from making him the best, most ruthless sports machine he could be for the team. There were no more rules holding him in, and he didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not.

Some people needed lines to be drawn for them, and he fit that category. The more days that passed without the team, without a coach, the more Reece wondered how far he’d go down this road. At what point would he overindulge, revealing to everyone that before he’d gone bronze and silver at the Games, he’d been white trash? How long would it take before those endorsements were pulled because they found out he wasn’t shiny and gold underneath everything?

He’d braced his hands on the table, near her thighs. She was pressing them together, her chest rising and falling with every harsh breath she took. She smelled like a flower, something pink and fresh, her lipstick dark and teasing. This close, he could almost fall into those eyes of hers. They were the golden color of the one elusive medal his teams had never won, and that made her all the more desirable.

Coasting his hands closer to her, he brushed the sides of her legs where her denim skirt wasn’t covering her. She took in a shaky breath.

“I asked you,” he said, “if this room is a landmark.”

“Yeah. An old one.”

She swallowed, her throat working, and he kept his gaze trained there. Smooth, beautiful, tanned skin. He loved a woman’s graceful, slim neck, and he lifted one hand to brush his knuckles against hers.

“Then give me some history about the Rough and Tumble,” he said.

After her eyes closed for the briefest moment, they fluttered open, heavy-lidded, and her lips parted just before she lifted her chin, allowing him more access to her throat. He stroked her as she spoke, as his body came alive again.

“The saloon itself is where most of the history took place,” she whispered.

“In what way?”

He skimmed down her neck, then over the middle of her chest to right above her breasts. God, those gorgeous, full breasts.

“Miners.” She flinched a little as he negligently rested his fingertips on the swell of one. A tiny sound of bliss seemed to get lost in her throat. Then she said, “Rough and Tumble was full of silver miners over a hundred years ago, and they would come to the saloon after a hard day to drink, play cards, and throw punches.”

“Seems things haven’t changed much since then.”

He took his time tracing the top of that breast, back and forth, his body screaming at him to get on with it, to get her out of his blood.

“This place still has its share of fights,” she said, “but no shootings since then. A miner was gunned down over a bad poker game once.”

Someone had already told him that there were still bullet holes in the wall of the Rough & Tumble. “What else?”

He moved to the lacings of her shirt, pulling on the string that held it together. She watched him, still breathing with labored pauses between words.

“They say Howard Hughes…used to drink here during his…Vegas days…before he got reclusive.”

“Fascinating.” And he wasn’t necessarily speaking of the business tycoon. Not when he’d gotten Talia’s lacings undone to the point where he could see her bra. She nearly spilled out of the black lace, and his libido rammed into him when he realized that there was a front hook.

With a practiced hand, he undid that, too, spreading it and her shirt apart…

 

 

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