Back Much Ado About You
Chapters (39)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for Fight or Flight
  3. Praise for New York Times bestselling author Samantha Young
  4. ALSO BY SAMANTHA YOUNG
  5. Epigraph
  6. One
  7. Two
  8. Three
  9. Four
  10. Five
  11. Six
  12. Seven
  13. Eight
  14. Nine
  15. Ten
  16. Eleven
  17. Twelve
  18. Thirteen
  19. Fourteen
  20. Fifteen
  21. Sixteen
  22. Seventeen
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-One
  27. Twenty-Two
  28. Twenty-Three
  29. Twenty-Four
  30. Twenty-Five
  31. Twenty-Six
  32. Twenty-Seven
  33. Twenty-Eight
  34. Epilogue
  35. Acknowledgments
  36. Readers Guide
  37. Excerpt from FIGHT OR FLIGHT
  38. About the Author
  39. What’s next onyour reading list?

I felt like I might.

However, suddenly Roane was no longer touching my breasts but bending to lift my left foot. I grabbed his shoulder for balance as he tugged off my Wellies one by one. And then he was fumbling for the zipper on my shorts. I shuddered with desire as he curled his fingers into the waistband of my underwear and pulled it down my legs along with my shorts. As I stepped out of them, he pressed a kiss between my legs, his beard tickling me, but it was so quick, I barely even had time to register it. Trembling with need, I stood, naked, as Roane stared at me like Christmas had come early. He kicked off his own boots, unbuttoned his jeans, and lowered his zipper before removing them along with his boxer briefs. After he kicked away his jeans and underwear, he gazed at me, a small smile on his lips, completely unabashed by his nakedness.

And rightly so.

Talk about epic.

His muscular calves, strong thighs, and the impressive erection saluting me from between them caused another hard flip in my lower belly. I bit my lip to stop another moan and then lifted my finger and made a circular motion.

Roane let out a huff of laughter, that adorable flush of red cresting the tops of his cheeks, but he did as I requested and slowly turned.

His ass.

My God, his ass needed to be immortalized in sculpture.

He turned to face me and smirked. “Happy now?”

I shook my head. “I won’t be happy until I’ve kissed every inch of you.”

His nostrils flared. “I know the feeling, angel.” He stepped back and sat on the bed. “Come here.”

I’d barely taken two steps toward him when he reached out to grasp me around the waist. Then he guided me to straddle him, his arousal hot against my stomach. My fingers curled into his strong shoulders as he smoothed his hands up my back.

He was such a tall guy that he made me feel feminine, almost delicate, when most men made me feel the opposite. My gaze wandered from his lips to his eyes, and my breath caught. There was so much emotion in his eyes. Desire, need, yes, but something more. Something beyond even tenderness and affection, and it made my chest feel full. Too full. Almost painfully so.

“Roane?”

He slid his hand along the back of my neck, and I felt him pull on the band holding my hair in a ponytail. It had barely begun to fall down my back when he slid his hand into the masses, tangling in it to grab a handful. Then he gently tugged my head back, arched my chest, and covered my left nipple with his mouth.