Sunday Snippet: Heat Up the Night by Skylar Kade + giveaway

Today we’re sharing a snippet from Skylar Kade’s up coming book Heat Up the Night. And as a special treat Skylar is doing a giveaway so don’t forget to enter her contest. 

 

“Not so fast, firebird.”

Keilor’s nickname for her curled around her heart and started melting it. The first time they played—the first time she’d ever set foot in Apogee, or any kink club for that matter—he’d settled on that appellation for her. Said it was because of her flame-red hair, fiery temper, and the way she burned up under his hands. Not so fitting a name now.

She ignored him and tried to scoot between a miniature palm and the other end of the couch, since he was blocking the most direct exit. Between one breath and the next, she was hauled against a hot, broad chest, her feet swept off the floor. The last thing she wanted was to make a spectacle of herself for the second time that night, so she didn’t claw at him or call out, though every cell screamed to do that very thing.

He was such a caveman. Had been the first night they’d met, trampling past her barriers and taking what he wanted—but no more than she was secretly willing to give. How he’d seen so deep into her, she had no idea. Maybe he had some freaky sixth sense. Should have been doing magic shows on the strip instead of heading Parthenon, the hottest, fanciest restaurant to hit the strip in years. It had brought all the high rollers to Hellena Casino, and their tips to her wallet.

Keilor took the seat vacated by Mike, but instead of setting her on the couch next to him, he snugged her against his chest, her long legs draped over his right arm, his left cradling her back. There wasn’t a way to gracefully escape.

If she were being honest—and hadn’t that been one of her promises to Sammy, being more honest, at least with herself?—she didn’t really want to. Keilor felt too good, which had been exactly the problem the first time. A twenty-minute session under some man’s talented flogger, she could reconcile. That way, they were using each other. It was safe. She wasn’t vulnerable.

His thumb stroked against the sensitive skin behind her knee and she ruthlessly suppressed a shiver even as she soaked in his body heat, convinced she’d never get warm again once he left.

“That was the ugliest scene I’ve ever witnessed.”

She flinched, despite his gentle tone. “It wasn’t Mike’s fault.”

He cleared his throat and waited. Her stomach churned. It looked like the farce would continue. “Master Mike. It wasn’t his fault.”

Another pause, then he continued the gentle thumb torture on her leg. “I know.” Tovia buried her face against Keilor’s neck. Even that was a better alternative than facing the harsh judgment of the club at the moment. He stroked fingers through her hair, then tugged until she had no choice but to look up at him.

His face hit her like a fist to the stomach. Even after seeing him in her dreams every night for a month, she was still awed by him. Dark brows framed laughing hazel eyes, now serious, which led to a nose that would have looked oversized on anyone else, with its reset-bone bump. It just gave him character. More laugh lines around his mouth, and the beginnings of a goatee. That was new. It was the only hair on his head.

She’d never been attracted to bald men, but Keilor was so sexy that even his bare skull turned her on. She knew it was by choice. She’d worked a little Google-Fu after their first scene together and found recent pictures of him with a full head of thick, brown hair.

Warning bells went off, but they were drowned out by his voice.

“I’m sure Master Mike will be tickled to learn he has such a steadfast champion.”

Waves of subtle lemony air drifted over her, as they always did in his presence. Or they did during their one scene together. She hadn’t been able to serve a Lemontini since without her panties getting wet.

Tovia sighed at his teasing even as the little hint of jealousy in his voice made her stomach jump. She shouldn’t react, but her body betrayed her so easily. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

Laughter rumbled her bones at every point of contact with his body. “I’m an elite member. I’m here all the time.”

“Not since we—” She bit off the rest of her sentence before she could dig herself in further and tried again to wriggle from his lap.

“Silly girl.” His words gentled, soothed. One rough hand slid up and down her arm. Damnit, she should not like that. “I was in Greece. The owner of the Hellena sent me over there to sample food and wine vendors. I assumed you knew.”

Now he’d think she was pining after him. Just because she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him didn’t mean she missed him. Or wanted a repeat that lasted all night.

No, because that would be ridiculous. Douglas women didn’t need men. It was practically the family motto.

To keep things light, she teased him back, ignoring the way her skin heated beneath his touch. “Oooh, poor thing. That must have been such a hardship.” A smile even teased at the corner of her lips despite her efforts to remain unaffected by his presence. When was the last time she smiled at a man who wasn’t tipping her for drinks?

Keilor stared down at her. “Actually, it was.”

Oh boy. She wasn’t touching the wealth of subtleties in those words. Not going down that path.

Keilor lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. Butterflies hatched in her chest, then died when he said, “You look tired.”

She scowled. “Well if that isn’t what every woman wants to hear from an attractive—” Her jaw clunked shut around the foot in her mouth.

He nipped her forefinger, zinging arousal to all her naughty bits, then stole her breath when he kissed her nose, her cheek. “Do you get a freckle every time you sass a Dom?”

An indelicate snort escaped her. “Sure. The freckles are a little-known Dominant Warning System saying ‘steer clear of the angry redhead!’” Yes, she thought, hold dear to your sarcasm. It was her current chastity belt of choice, and that was swiftly crumbling at the edges.

“Good. Less competition.” His lips drifted to her neck, where he pressed kisses to random patches of skin still exposed around the edges of the blanket.

Oh shit. She clutched the soft brown cover around her, remembering what she wore beneath—absolutely nothing aside from her short shorts. Like flipping a switch, her nipples hardened and her pussy clenched. He could so easily expose her. Not that she hadn’t been naked in the club every weekend, but it was different now, with Keilor watching her.

Dangerous.

“What…what are you doing?” His exploratory kisses had turned into sizzling nips to her collarbone.

“Counting your freckles.” He tugged at the blanket, playing momentary tug of war with her until he stopped fighting and simply went around the mountain. His hand slithered beneath her shield to scald her stomach, then higher. When the back of his hand brushed across her nipple, she moaned. “I need a baseline count. Scientific study and all of that.”

 

Can they find love without losing themselves…

Tovia Douglas has devoted her adult years to sheltering her mentally ill mother and ensuring her sister’s independence. When Tovia turns 27, those lost years come into sharp, painful focus and she decides it’s time to start enjoying life, starting with a little mental vacation through submission at her local kink club.

Keilor Branson grew up believing in love at first sight. He just figured his other half would feel it too. Instead, feisty new submissive Tovia runs from their emotional connection. Determined, Keilor must chip away at her walls and prove that love is worth the risk.

When family troubles lead to Tovia’s change of heart, their roles are reversed. Now she must prove to her man, her Master, that while love isn’t always perfect, they are perfect for each other.

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