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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 gasped as the touch scored down my stomach to between my legs, and as he sucked and licked at me, my hips began to undulate, searching for satisfaction. Tension coiled between my legs, tightening and tightening as he moved between my breasts. My fingernails dug into his shoulders. I was going to come. He’d built me up with his slow seduction, and now I was ready for release just from his mouth on my breasts.

Oh my God.

Abruptly he stopped, and I found myself falling onto my back as he flipped me. I stared up at him, lying atop his duvet, and my lower belly shuddered as he moved off the bed to his knees. I pushed up on my elbows to watch him, my panting growing louder as my anticipation built.

His big hands coasted up the insides of my thighs as he pushed my legs apart and hauled my body down the bed toward him. He made a guttural noise in the back of his throat seconds before his tongue touched me. His tongue, how his beard gently scratched against my skin, his fingers biting into my thighs . . . it was all too much.

I cried out as I moved against his mouth, my climax right there on the horizon of a few more licks. He suckled me, pulling hard, and that was all it took. The tension inside me shattered in a spine-tingling release that coursed deliciously through me. I shuddered against Roane’s mouth as he devoured every drop of my orgasm.

I’d never seen a man look so satisfied or triumphant as Roane stood, towering over me as I lay flushed across his bed. Without a word he pulled open the drawer in his bedside cabinet, fumbled inside it for a second, and removed a condom.

My inner thighs quivered as I watched him tear open the foil, heard it crinkle before it hit the floor. I’d barely recovered from my epic orgasm, and I could already feel the slick tension building inside me again as Roane rolled on protection.

Then, as if I weighed nothing, he gripped me under the arms and slid my body up and across the bed before climbing over me.

I panted for air as he hovered above me, eyes locked with mine. Then he lowered his head and kissed me. Slow, deep, seductive. Mesmerizing. Spellbinding kisses that took me somewhere else. We were wrapped in a cocoon of heat, the air in the stuffy bedroom thick with it, with our musk and the scent of sex.

There was nothing for it but to give in to the heat, to build it until it was a fire that set us ablaze.