There’s only one man for wild child Jenna McCaffrey—her best friend’s sexy grouch of a brother. For years, she’s wanted to get her hungry hands on the straight-laced professor and break his careful control. She’d come so close once... But now, her friend’s wedding party ranch getaway is the perfect opportunity for a do-over. And poor Rob won’t know what hit him.

Professor Rob Lindgren is close to attaining his final dream—tenure. Unfortunately, the university’s morality clause is making his life hell. He’s dying to let loose, and a weekend away from home is just what he needs...until he sees Jenna. She’s exactly as he remembers—still brash, still bold, still damn near irresistible. And Rob is tired of fighting...

Too bad they can only have one wicked weekend together. No way will Jenna’s wild ways ever fit in Rob’s perfectly planned life…

Rob answered her knock with a toothbrush in his hand like a weapon. “Jenna.” How did he do that, pack so much frustration into one word?
He had undressed part way, leaving his undershirt half-untucked, his slacks unbuttoned, and his belt hanging loose in the loops. She had no right to the relief she felt, but she was happy for it anyway.
“Cookie?” she asked. It only then occurred to her that just because he wasn’t in her cabin, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have someone in his room. She leaned a bit to the left.
He tossed away his toothbrush—she heard the faint clatter of it landing on a hard surface—took the cookies from her hand and set them somewhere, then flicked the security latch out so it would block the door from locking. Then he stepped into the hall, cutting off her view inside. “What are you doing here?”
She tried to read him, but the stern fa├žade thwarted her this time. “Do you have company?”
“Would it matter if I did?” Without her quite being aware of it, he’d backed her across the hall. Something rebellious stirred inside her when her heels hit the baseboard. In some sort of Pavlovian response, she raised her hands to his chest.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, it would. I have a favor to ask.”
Rob braced his hand on the wall beside her head, and the sleeve of his T-shirt rode over his bicep. Between that and the outline of his pecs under her fingers, Jenna thought he really was more fit than a professor should be. He would be totally distracting in class.
An overwhelming urge hummed inside her. To explore every plane, every groove, every point and line and hollow of his body.
“What kind of favor?” he asked, his voice soft, drawing her attention completely. He pressed his forehead to hers, his lips close enough she could reach them if she dared.
“My cabin-mates made an agreement,” she said quietly. “If the Do Not Disturb sign is on the door…” She waved her hand in circles. “You know.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Well, it’s up, so I need a place to wait.”
“You know that’s a terrible idea.”
“Why? I promised you I’d behave.”
He brushed the long front pieces of her hair back and gave himself access to her ear. “What if I don’t want you to behave?”
It was a good thing he had her backed against the wall. His voice was pure, gravelly distress, and heat poured off him, filled with intoxicating chemicals her body detected, even if her conscious senses couldn’t. She felt their effect in her breasts and between her legs and in the instability of her knees. “I guess you’ll have to decide.”

Thank you for asking! DON'T HOLD BACK is available at these outlets...
Barnes & Noble:
For Amazon UK/Canada/Australia click the "OR BUY FROM" tab at Entangled's

Buy links for HOLD ME HARDER, Book 1 in the series, can be found here:

And my short story Through Glass a Stranger can be found in the kINKED Anthology, edited by Cori Vidae. All the buy links are here at Pen&Kink Publishing’s book page:

KINKED (A Pen and Kink Anthology)

Every tattoo tells a story…
A submissive pain slut receives a tattoo as a reward for years of selfless service. A man’s body is used to deliver a very different kind of message to a domineering masochist. An exotic teahouse on an alien planet where one woman explores her submissiveness with a set of shapeshifting twins.
These and other sizzling stories take you to the places where kink meets ink and leave you indelibly marked.

Excerpt from Through Glass a Stranger

She lost sight of him as he made his way through the condo, flashing in and out of view behind walls and posts. She picked him up again as he entered his bedroom, his hands already clutching the lower edge of his t-shirt. He pulled it over his head, then used the inside to wipe his face before he tossed it aside. She tapped the zoom, two factors, enough to make him her sole focus. His body had become familiar, a human geometry lesson. The lines of his abdomen, the arcs, and angles of his chest and shoulders defined his musculature, enhanced by the feature that piqued her interest most of all—his elaborate tattoo.

The first night she truly watched him she had mistaken the artwork for streaks of grime that had seeped under his clothes and stained his skin. She had zoomed in, his outline blurring as the twisting, twining branches of thorny brambles grew sharper. The tattoo began at the top of his feet, reached up to his shoulders and then curved down his arms like an anatomy chart of the circulatory system. But his marks were not so benign. The thorns were wicked, some dripping blood. Ink, she reminded herself. Blood-red ink. Every night she wondered why a man would have himself tattooed with brambles. Every night she wondered if he, like her, was walking wounded.

He turned away as he lowered his pants over his hips and she zoomed back out. Clad in tight-fitting boxer briefs, he perched on the edge of his bed, bent to remove his boots and pull his jeans free of his legs, careful as always not to touch his bedlinens with his dirty things. And then, just as he did every night, he left the room.

She lowered the binoculars, her heart beating slow and heavy as she waited. For the first few weeks, he would leave for several minutes and then reappear dressed in low-slung sweatpants, a towel draped around his neck, freshly showered and ready for a beer and dinner. Until the night he changed things.

He had returned that night with the towel wrapped around his hips. He stood at the foot of his bed, facing the window, and rendered her breathless when he put his hands to his waist. His stillness drew her to the breaking point. To this day she didn’t know why—he couldn’t possibly see clearly from across the way—but she had nodded. He untucked the towel and dropped it to the floor, stood there damp and stunningly nude, as if on display.

Now she waited for his reveal every night, and he hadn’t failed to satisfy, in the most intensely erotic of ways.

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