He laughed. “You think?”
“I do.” I nodded through the happy tears in my eyes.
“And you’re OK to fly?” Concern flooded his gaze again as he looked at my perfectly flat stomach.
“Yes, Declan.” I laughed.
“OK.” He smiled at me. “Let’s do this. I’m all in.”
I threw my arms around his neck. His smell, his warmth, his love, I never wanted to let go. I couldn’t believe life could be so good.
“We’re going to have a baby,” Declan murmured. I looked up into his smiling face. He brought a hand to my hair, smoothing it back as he liked to do. “Nothing else matters, you know. Just you and me.”
“And baby makes three,” I finished for him, smiling.
He was right. No matter what happened next, we had everything we needed right there. Our love was everything.
THE END
Thank you so much for reading Unleashed! I hope you loved every page! It’s such fun sharing the story of Kara and Declan with you.
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Keep reading for a sneak peek at my next release, Undone.
Kara and Declan kicked off the Beg for It series with Unleashed. It ended with the bombshell—he’s got siblings! A whole bunch of them! Meet Declan’s brother Ash in the next book in the series, Undone, out in March and available here
UNDONE, VOLUME 1
(the Beg for It series)
Take one bad boy rock god. Mix slowly with one wholesome librarian. Add a dash of paparazzi, a twist of scandal, and you won’t believe how good this dish tastes.
Ash
It’s pretty easy being a rock god. Party. Perform. P*ssy. Repeat. I’m 26 and it’s worked for me for years. Until I was caught ripping out the heart of America’s sweetheart in a video gone viral. Now #HatePlayerAsh is trending on Twitter, she’s writing a song about how much I suck and I’m in desperate need of image rehab, fast.
Good thing paparazzi chased me into that library. Had I not ducked under that desk I never would have found myself next to the long, sexy legs and disapproving gaze of Anika Ivanov. In my world of use and get used, she’s a unicorn. A kind, 24-year-old, hard-working, family-oriented children’s librarian. My agent agrees, she’s the one to set everything right. All she needs to do is fake a month-long public romance, let the world see me fall hard for her, then dump me in a brutal, public display. It’s genius.
Now I just have to convince her to agree. And convince myself that the only reason I want to spend the month with her is to improve my image. It’s not her full, luscious lips or her soft, seductive laugh or those fantasies I keep having of tying her down to my bed as I make her quiver and pant and call out my name.
Ana
Ash Black. In my library. Under my desk. It’s hard to believe it happened. I’ve listened to his voice enough times, my favorite soundtrack as I walk down the streets of New York. My secret bad boy crush, the smoldering, shirtless star of the tabloids, all muscles and tattoos. Then one day he shows up and kisses me in my break room.
What’s even crazier is how he wants me to spend the next month. Backstage at his shows in L.A., San Francisco and Vegas, candlelight dinners in New York and Paris. He wants the world to believe he’s fallen in love. With me.
I’ve got to say no. He’s a walking disaster with a dirty mouth and wicked hands that melt my panties right off of me. This month would take everything in my well-ordered, neat little life and shake it up like a snow globe.
Then why am I so tempted to say yes?
UNDONE, VOLUME 1
One Month From Now
Ana
I pulled against my wrist restraints, panting as his tongue trailed a slow, teasing path down my stomach. A moan escaped my lips. I needed to touch him, fist my fingers in his thick, jet-black hair and dig my nails into his broad, muscular shoulders. But I couldn’t even see him. He’d blindfolded me. Twisting my head to the side, I could still picture him, tattoos licking along his biceps, down by his abs, right at the start of his V.
“Please!” I couldn’t help but cry out. I needed more, needed his tongue lower, needed to be set free so I could at least touch myself if not him. He’d worked me up into such a frenzy. With a low, satisfied growl deep in his chest, he dipped his tongue in a lazy circle around my belly button. He insisted on having me his way, tormenting every inch of me until I begged for it.
“Ash!” I strained against my ties, spread-eagle on the king-size bed, but he’d fastened them well. All I succeeded in doing was arching up my back, further offering my naked breasts up for his pleasure.
He chuckled, deep and wicked, tracing my curves with his hand. “You like being tied up, don’t you, my Ana?” His fingers melted me as he stroked my limbs, up my side, along the swell of my breast. He paused and I held my breath, wondering what he might do next, feeling a throb deep in my pussy, drawing more slick, sweet juice from my core. The anticipation, the submission, it made me crazy.
But he kept on going, up past my breast, along my collar-bone, up my arm to circle my restraints. He drew my attention to his control, how he had me tied up, exactly where he wanted me.
“I knew you’d like it,” he murmured. “You’re so beautiful, laid out here for me.”
I panted like an animal and swallowed hard. A sliver of my mind still reared up in shock at what I was doing, what I was letting him do to me. Willingly turning myself over to him in complete submission. I’d never done anything like it before, letting someone tie me up. I’d thought about it, even touched myself fantasizing about it late at night. But never in my bland, boring, good girl what-passed-for-a-sex-life had I ever done anything like it.
Turned out that getting snowed in at a cabin in the mountains with Ash Black, the sexiest, hottest rock god on the planet brought out the naughty side in me.
A month ago, I never would have believed any of this would happen. Sure, I’d fantasized about the lead singer of my favorite band. Plenty of times. But I wasn’t alone in that. Last year Ash Black been on the cover of People magazine, sexiest man alive. I think he’d starred in more than a few late-night fantasies.
But even my fantasies hadn’t taken me this far. A month ago, I never could have imagined this scene. I wouldn’t have recognized the naked woman, bound and blindfolded on the bed, writhing and whimpering beneath Ash’s large, powerful body.
Suddenly, I felt wet heat on my aching, erect nipple. I cried out as he sucked me, licked me, pleasure rocketing directly to my sex.
“You need this, Ana. Don’t you?” he whispered, husky. I could feel his stubble, rough along my soft breast as he circled my nipple, slowly, teasing me again.
“Yes!” I cried out. “Please!” I begged for release, not from bondage, but from the intensity of the building, cresting orgasm I could feel quivering up inside of me. I needed to let it out, and I needed him to free it from me.
“Oh! Please!” I begged, shameless.
“I knew you had this in you,” Ash whispered, up at my neck, licking, sucking me there at my sensitive flesh. Moaning, I tossed my head back, baring my skin, giving him full access. “From the second I met you, all buttoned up in that library, I knew.”
“You couldn’t have.” Even in my frenzied state, I knew it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. I hadn’t even known I’d had this wild, wanton sex goddess within my prim and proper exterior. A children’s librarian, I was the daughter of a strict, older couple of Russian immigrants, raised throu
gh generations of sacrifice and hardship to work and then work some more. I’d never cut loose before, not once. My largest act of rebellion had been to move to Brooklyn, an hour and a half from my childhood home in upstate New York. And listen to Ash Black’s pure, driven rock music late at night.
Now I had the man himself, the literal poster boy for bad boy rock stars. Or more accurately, he had me. All alone. In a cabin shut off from the world in the epic storm draught-stricken California had been waiting for for years.
“You can scream, Ana.” Ash licked at my collarbone, trailing fingers along my outstretched arms. “You can yell at the top of your lungs. No one will hear you.”
“Ash!” I cried out as he sank down once again, capturing my erect, aroused nipple between his teeth. He bit down just enough to make it burn so good. He palmed my breast, feasting on me, sucking hard, then light, just a whisper of a lick around my nipple as I panted and quivered. All the rumors about this man were true, every single one of them. He was an arrogant, rich playboy, a heartthrob and a heartbreaker, a panty-melting bad boy who had dozens upon hundreds of women throwing themselves at him night after night.
But he’d chosen me. It was me he’d tied down to his bed, me he had nasty, dirty plans for all night long. Me, alone with him, snowed in and at his mercy.
“You can scream when you come, Ana,” he whispered, trailing his tongue down my stomach. Slowly, so slowly. I moaned, wishing I could move, wishing I could bring my sex up to him and make things happen faster. I’d never felt so desperate, so crazed. Sex before Ash had always been blah, mostly forgettable, slightly regrettable. It had never felt anything like this rush of a roller coaster ride, this wild, heady plunge straight into the unknown.