The second part in Lauren Hawkeye’s erotic romance serial, UNINHIBITED!, is available today! And you don’t have long to wait until the third part, which releases July 17th! Find out more about the serial below and pick up your copies below!
About the Uninhibited! Series
Celebrity archaeologist Cari Dunn is so over the Georgia heat, the red tape at her dig site, and the threatening messages left on her motel door. She just wants to dig, and the network just wants to keep her safe—with a bodyguard. She can’t complain. Jasper Benjamin radiates raw masculinity that penetrates her to the core and ignites passion she’s never felt. Too bad for him, she’s not going to be easy to handle.
Lusting after the bodyguard shouldn’t be so tempting, especially when her life is on the line.
Grab your copy of UNTAMED (Uninhibited! #1) now:
Get your hands on UNBOUND (Uninhibited! #2) today:
Preorder UNDONE (Uninhibited! #3) – Releases July 17th
Get a Sneak Peek at UNTAMED, Uninhibited! #1:
“You know what Krav Maga is, and you let me spar with my imaginary friend for the last hour?” I let myself go limp, become dead weight, expecting the move to surprise him enough to drop me.
It did not. Instead he rolled with me until his back was against the parched grass, and I was seated astride him. I should have been able to get free since I was on top, but I couldn’t rid myself of his steely grip on my arms, and I knew he’d chosen that position deliberately, to prove his point.
Damn it. This was not the result I wanted—proof that I did, in fact, need him.
“I get it. You’re stronger than me. Now let me up.” Temper-tears stung the back of my throat. Convincing my stepfather that I was going to go to university, convincing my colleagues that I wouldn’t have a nervous breakdown just because some idiot spray painted my door—why did I always have to fight just to live my life the way I wanted?
Instead of gloating and letting me up, my newly vindicated bodyguard tugged me down so that I lay at on top of him. I surprised myself by wanting, suddenly, to bury my face in his T-shirt and just let go for a moment, rather than fight this new reality—that I might actually be in danger.
“I’m not trying to prove that I’m stronger than you. I don’t have to. It’s obvious.” The urge to snuggle passed as I cranked my head around with a glare.
Way to make me feel worse, asshole.
“Krav maga is a discipline, and the first rule is to avoid confrontation. You know this. So why the hell are you out here, alone, after dusk?” His words were tinted with frustration, the first hint of emotion he’d shown, and I was surprised enough to stop tugging at his grip. When I did, he let go, and I pushed myself up on his massive chest but didn’t roll off.
“You’re serious.” I waited for the punchline, but it didn’t come. Instead, he fixed me with a stare from those pale eyes, and a shiver skittered down my spine. “You don’t actually think someone is out to get me, do you? It’s a prank, right?”
“Let’s look at it this way.” Propping himself up on an elbow brought that rock-solid stomach of his in contact with my hip. I thought he would push me away, but he didn’t, seeming completely unaffected by the closeness of our bodies.
That stung, because I sure as hell wasn’t. This close, I could feel the warmth of his skin, smell a hint of soap, and it invaded my senses slowly, lazily, like honey melting on a summer day.
“You’re an archaeologist. You search for physical proof of things before you build theories on top of that evidence. Would that be an accurate explanation?”
“Yes.” Narrowing my eyes, I tried to drag my attention from the scent of his skin to what he was saying. My mouth was dry, and the space between my legs that pressed into the cradle between his hip was warm and starting to ache.
He gave no indication that our position was getting him all hot and bothered, too. None. How was I the only one feeling this?
“You have your physical proof. Harassment in the form of vandalism, and the more direct threat with the poster mailed to Margot.” With the sort of ab crunch I couldn’t do even on my best day, he hauled himself into a sitting position, still without pushing me off his lap. “Sure, it could be that
someone just wants to mess with your head. But what if it’s more? Wouldn’t you rather be prepared?”
“I like being prepared.” I ran my tongue over my lips and swallowed. Holy mixed messages. His words, his demeanor—he was still fully in G.I. Joe mode, but still, he hadn’t pushed me away.
“So how is this going to work? You just follow me around all the time?” A thought occurred to me. “You’re not expecting to stay in the same room, are you?”
Looking at him, though, I felt that same strange pull that I had in Margot’s suite. I might not actually mind having him that close.
What was wrong with me?
Margot and the network had been right—I was absolutely in danger. But the threat?
It was him.