I’ve never been too fond of Mondays until I started up Oh My! Mondays to showcase steamy hot excerpts from some fantastic authors. This week I’m thrilled to welcome back to Behind Closed Doors, my friend and fellow Siren author, Amber Lea Easton. Today she’s sharing an excerpt that will melt your panties off and leave you begging for more. Would you risk it all for a chance to get your happily ever after or are you the type who is afraid to take any chances at all? Let’s see what Amber has to say about taking risks…
Available now from Bookstrand
Risk: a word that terrifies some people. Artists take risks when they put their heart on display for the world to judge. Policemen, firefighters, and military take risks when they rush in when we’re rushing out.
We human beings take risks all the time whether we’re conscious of it or not–when we decide to call the guy back, make eye contact with that hottie we’ve been daydreaming about for weeks, quit our jobs for something better, leave a relationship that’s comfortable for the unknown, buy that dress that’s more seductive than our “usual style” or reinvent ourselves so we can live the life we’ve always dreamed. All of those are risks that may not be life-threatening, but can certainly feel like it.
In Riptide, my hero and heroine have learned the hard way that people lie, that betrayal is too easy for some, but they risk being hurt again when they open their hearts to one another.
That’s what love is about…trusting one other person with your raw and open heart, letting go of the fear of rejection for that adrenaline rush, breaking down the walls that protect you, and risking it all for your chance at happily ever after. It’s not easy ..but, as they saying goes, nothing worthwhile ever is.
Blurb from Riptide
One violent night shatters Lauren Biltmore’s life. As an anchorwoman, she’s accustomed to reporting the news rather than being the lead story. She escapes the spotlight by fleeing to her brother’s home in the Cayman Islands. Haunted by nightmares, all she wants is a distraction from reality.
Distraction arrives via sexy screenwriter Noah Reynolds. His take-me-to-bed looks mask a past ripe with scandal. He knows he should stay away from Lauren, especially when the worst night of her life unlocks his writer’s block and while he’s dealing with a stalker of his own, but ethics are his weakness.
Attraction sizzles beneath Caribbean sunshine. As their relationship grows, Noah’s stalker intensifies her torment. Lauren wonders if her paranoia is justified or a carryover from her past. What’s real? What’s imagined?
Tentative trust is tested as their love is swept up against a riptide of deceit, murder, and revenge.
“Hey, sexy lady.” He sat behind her, pulled her between his legs and rested his chin on her shoulder. “What do you think of my boat now?”
She sipped her wine before tilting her head to look at him. “There’s more to it than meets the eye, kind of like the captain.”
“Captain, huh?” He moved her hair and kissed the back of her neck. “I don’t suppose I could get you to call me sir for a few hours?”
“Oh, I see what your game is.” She laughed and leaned her head back to allow him easier access to her neck. “Whatever you say, sir. Your boat, your rules.”
“Good answer.” His mouth toyed with her earlobe. “I like having you all to myself. Seems like we’re always interrupted at the house.”
She twisted her head to look him in the eye. “Are you thinking about the house?”
“Not right now.” He brushed her hair from her face. Damn, she was beautiful.
He kissed her neck. She tasted like salt air and citrus. He unzipped her dress and smoothed his hands over her bare back. When his fingers slipped over her ribs, he heard her sharp intake of breath. Smiling against her neck, he moved his hands over her breasts. Squeezed. His mouth toyed with her ear. He liked the way her breasts filled his hands perfectly, as if they were made for him.
He kissed the line of her jaw as his hands slid over her flat abdomen. He felt the scar and traced it with his thumbs before sliding his hands back over her breasts.
Her hand gripped the back of his head as she ground her lips against his. Her mouth was wet and urgent beneath his, her tongue insistent.
He pulled the dress from her shoulders before pushing her down. Dragging his mouth from hers, he raised up enough to look down at her bare torso. Stunned by the intensity of emotion that flooded through him, he buried his face between her breasts and pinned her wrists against her sides.
Wine spilled. Both the bottle and glasses rolled toward the edge.
His mouth made love to first one breast and then the other. He savored every inch of her skin. She squirmed beneath him, but he refused to release her wrists. She needed to surrender, to enjoy being worshipped.
“Noah, please,” she said, her squirming making him insane with desire. “I need you inside me. Please. You’re torturing me.”
He slid down, his teeth pulled at the silky material of her panties. He released her wrists and moved his hands over her naked torso as his teeth worked her panties lower over her hips.
“Damn it, Noah. You’re killing me.”
He smiled against her hipbone. “Relax. We’re gonna get there.”
He pulled her panties and her dress from her legs and tossed them aside without looking away from her body. He ran his hands up her long legs, kissed the inside of her knees, licked the inside of her thighs, tasted the center of her, felt her body contract around his fingers as he slid them inside her. Wet and hot, she tasted sweet and intoxicating.
Her body arched beneath his mouth. Her hands were in his hair. She moaned his name over and over.
He kissed a trail over her abdomen, lingered again on her breasts, moved to her neck before merging his mouth with hers. She pulled his shirt off of his shoulders while he fumbled with the zipper of his shorts with one hand. Muttering something against his mouth, she pushed hard until he rolled onto his back, taking her with him.
She bent over him, hair trailing across his face as she kissed his neck and chest. Her hands pulled his shorts low, reached for his penis before her tongue licked the tip. He rolled his head back and gasped for air.
“Condom in my pocket,” he said between gritted teeth.
She knelt over him, hair blowing across her face as she rummaged in the pocket of his shorts for the condom.
“Give it here.” Propped on an elbow, he grabbed the package and ripped it open. Damn, he needed to be inside this woman with an urgency he hadn’t felt in years—if ever. The need pulsated through his veins and reverberated in his ears.
And then she was on him, rocking, hair blowing across her face, hands pressing against his chest, breasts moving with her rhythm, body silhouetted by stars in a night sky. She looked like a sea goddess having her way with him. He grabbed her waist and ground his hips against hers. She leaned over and kissed him with an urgency that shook him like an earthquake.
He rolled her back over and thrust into her again and again, needing to go deep. They were a tangle of limbs as their bodies merged in a desperate dance. Mouths found one another. Breath caught between them. When he climaxed, he let out a shout. She laughed—breathless—her nails scratching down his back.
“I can’t get enough of you.” Her breath brushed against the sweat of his neck.
“I know what you mean.” He muttered against the top of her head. “Damn, I want to do that again.” He kissed her forehead. “And again.” He kissed her lips and lingered. “And again.”
“Stay inside me. Don’t move.” She fisted her hands in his hair and looked him in the eye. “I think my dress blew overboard.”
He laughed, enjoying the feel of her legs still wrapped around him. “Do you care?”
“Not even a little bit.” She kissed him, eyes wide open.
He held her head close and looked into her eyes. Despite everything—her history, the note on his door, the mess he was in, her pain from the past and uncertainty about the future—she was brave enough to be here with him naked on the bow of his boat surrounded by deep water and darkness.
“I was right that day at The Lazy Turtle when I said you were dangerous,” he said against her lips. “You’re the most dangerous woman I’ve ever met.”
Didn’t I tell you? Melted your panties off didn’t it? (fanning self) Want a bit more of Riptide? Check out the video trailer. Buckle up! This will knock you off your feet!
Amber Lea Easton is a multi-published fiction and nonfiction author. For twenty years, she’s worked in the fields of journalism and advertising with a brief detour into the financial industry. Although she holds a BA in Communications & Journalism, she is a perpetual student of life who enjoys taking post-graduate courses on a wide variety of subjects when time allows. Smart is sexy, according to Easton, which is why she writes about strong female characters who have their flaws and challenges, but who ultimately persevere.
Easton currently lives with her two teenagers in the Colorado Rocky Mountains where she gives thanks daily for the gorgeous view outside her window. She finds inspiration from traveling, the people she meets, nature and life’s twists and turns. At the end of the day, as long as she’s writing, she considers herself to be simply “a lucky lady liv’n the dream.”
Where to find Amber and Riptide
Guest spot on The House of Taboo
Thank you for sharing with us today, Amber! For those of you who want another look at Riptide, head over to my sister blog Sassy Vixen Publishing on August 9th when she shares the first thirteen sentences of the book. And yeah…they are SMOKIN’! See ya there! ~Tammy