by SARAH CASTILLE
June 2, 2015
SHE’S HOLDING ON TIGHT.
As a teen, Dawn ran from a life on the streets straight into the arms of Jimmy “Mad Dog” Sanchez, a biker who promised to be her knight in shining armor. But his love was just another cage. Years later, Dawn’s former life still has its hooks in her and she’ll do whatever it takes to break free. When Cade “Ryder” O’Connor, a member of a rival club, makes her an offer, Dawn finds herself in a different, hotter kind of trouble with one irresistible Sinner…
WILL HE GIVE HER THE RIDE OF HER LIFE?
Cade is an outlaw biker with allegiance to one thing and one thing only: The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club. But when it comes to the stunningly sexy, fiercely independent Dawn Delgado, Cade finds himself…hungrier for more. Trouble is on Dawn’s heels and he wants to be the answer to her prayers, whether she wants him to be or not. What can’t be denied is the red-hot attraction between them. However, as they fall deeper, the danger rises and Cade may have to sacrifice it all…
See where it all began with book 1 of the Sinner’s Tribe series, Rough Justice.
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“I’m not injured everywhere.” The deep rumble of his voice made her skin tingle.
“Seriously?” Dawn swallowed hard as her hands followed the shirt up his torso, her fingers brushing over heated skin and hard muscle. God, he was magnificent, all taut pecs and rippling abs. Even the bruises couldn’t mar the perfection of his body. “How can you be thinking of sex at a time like this?”
His voice dropped, husky and low. “’Cause you’re standin’ between my legs wearing a tiny pair of shorts that only cover the top of your ass cheeks, and a damn tight top that doesn’t hide what you’re thinking.” He leaned forward in the chair, so close she could feel his breath on her skin. “And nothing underneath.”
Dawn’s breath hitched and her blood heated, thundered through her veins. Until this moment, focused on Cade’s injuries, her attire had been totally irrelevant. “How do you know I have nothing underneath?”
Cade traced lazy circles up the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, pausing at edge of her cotton PJ shorts. Dawn stilled as her brain clouded with desire. It was always this way with Cade: A chemistry so potent she was surprised they didn’t combust.
“Let’s see.” He slid his finger inside her shorts and stroked along the sensitive crease at the top of her thigh, sending a zing of electricity straight to her core.
“Hmmm. Can’t tell. Spread for me, baby. Let me in.”
Her face flushed. God, the things he said did all the wrong things to the right parts of her body. “Cade . . . this isn’t the time. You’re hurt. Let me look after you.”
He grabbed her hips, pulling her so close she could feel his heat through her clothes. Dawn breathed in his scent of blood and grass, mixed with heady aroma of leather and manly musk, and a delicious shiver ran up her spine.
“You are taking care of me,” he said. “Man gets in a fight. Hurts all over. He wants to feel good. He wants something to make him forget the pain. And you—all soft and sexy and smellin’ like flowers—will do the trick.”
“I thought you came here for help.” Dawn made a token effort at resistance and raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize it was a booty call.”
“You got the nicest booty I ever seen.” Cade slid a hand down her hip, and then gave her ass a squeeze. Before she could move away, his finger was inside her shorts, stroking over the bare skin of her folds. She gasped as moisture flooded her sex, and her nipples tightened beneath her thin cotton tank. Had she really thought things would be different from every other time they’d been together?
“Naughty girl,” he whispered. “You go to bed without your panties and someone might take advantage.”
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, Sarah Castille, writes contemporary erotic romance and romantic suspense featuring blazingly hot alpha heroes and the women who tame them. A recovering lawyer and caffeine addict, she worked and traveled abroad before trading her briefcase and stilettos for a handful of magic beans and a home near the Canadian Rockies.
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