Exclusive Sneak Peek of Playing Dirty in Alaska for Fresh Fiction
Bridget and Archer’s first kiss in four years ….
***
“I’m still waiting for that kiss hello.”
Bridget looked up at him, eyes hot, slashes of color riding high across her cheekbones. “That’s not fair. You lost the bet.”
“All’s fair in love and war,” Archer informed her.
She poked a finger into the center of his chest. “There’s no love here.” Another poke. “And I’m not looking for a war. All I want is to be left —”
He caught her hand before she poked him a third time. “This isn’t about what you want, remember? This is about what I want.”
“Why?” She punctuated the question with a stomp of her foot, followed by a swift breath of pain.
Frustration got the better of him. “For fuck’s sake, Bridget, just stand still for thirty seconds and you’ll have what you want, including an answer to that question.”
“Ten seconds,” she countered.
He rolled his eyes skyward and fished his phone out of his pocket. “Twenty seconds. Final offer. Otherwise, I knock on that door loud enough to wake the whole god-damned town.”
“Jesus. Okay.” She shoved a hand through her hair. “Twenty seconds.”
Determined to make them count, he set the timer to vibrate, placed the phone on the porch rail, and tipped her face up to his. While she glared at him from beneath long eyelids, he skimmed his hand along her jaw and into her hair until he cradled the back of her head. Using his other hand, he stroked his thumb along the angle of her eyebrow, her temple. Her eyelashes fluttered. She inhaled quickly. If she hoped the sound conveyed impatience, she’d be disappointed to know it conveyed lust. Simple, unvarnished lust that drew responses from every part of him—mind, body, soul.
Determined to take his time, and hear that quick inhale again, he traced one side of her upper lip with his thumb, from the curvy center notch all the way down the graceful slope to the corner, and then the soft pillow of her lower lip. They parted a little more, and…yeah, there it was…another quick breath.
“I thought you wanted a ki—?”
“No talking.” Still cupping the back of her head, he caressed the sensitive skin behind her ear with long sweeps of his thumb. She’d always had a little weak spot right there, and judging by her next inhale, she still did.
He didn’t know if she realized it, but she’d brought both of her hands up to rest on his chest. Maybe to keep him at bay, originally, but now her fingertips curled into his sweater. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Her breath hitched.
Jesus, she undid him. Always had. Always would. Moving slowly, he leaned in. Eyes locked, he brushed his lips over hers, settled them there, barely touching. Something agonizingly sweet and devastatingly familiar shivered through him. It shivered through her, too. He felt it. Her pupils expanded until her irises were narrow perimeters of deep purple. His thumb swept over a pulse in her neck tripping along at a pace that matched the hammering of his heart. A small, helpless noise rose from deep in her throat.
Urges, instincts, knowledge no amount of time could dull, roared at him to dive into the kiss and pull them both under. Drown in her, in what he’d denied himself—denied them—for too long. You can, a desperate part of his mind whispered. You know what to do. You know how to make it good for her.
But another sound filtered through those dangerous thoughts. The sound of his phone vibrating on the porch rail. The sound signaling his twenty seconds of heaven had come to an end. Moving slowly, sliding both hands along her jaw, he lifted his mouth from hers. She stared at him, blinked, pressed her lips together and slid her tongue between them in a way that made him want to groan, and then just stared at him some more.
His move. He reached behind her, turned the doorknob and opened the door an inch. Very quietly, he said, “That’s why.”
“Why what?” she whispered.
He couldn’t hold back a smile. “You asked me why. Now you know.” With Herculean effort, he stepped away. “See you tomorrow.”
She stood stock still for a long moment, then peeled his jacket off in a couple jerky movements, and held it out to him, her arm fully extended to keep maximum distance between them during the exchange.
He traded her keys for his jacket, shrugged it on, turned, and started walking.
“Archer.” Her voice was softer than the wind rustling the spring leaves.
He turned.
“I hate you.”
Yeah. And he deserved it. But hate was a strong emotion, making it an important step up from the indifference she’d initially claimed. God knew what it said about him, but he saw it as progress. Grinning, he blew her a kiss.
(c) Samanthe Beck, Entangled Amara, 2022. Shared with permission from the publisher.
PLAYING DIRTY IN ALASKA by Samanthe Beck
Captivity, Alaska #2
Bush pilot Bridget Shanahan runs from responsibility like a child runs from a dentist appointment, but when her brother leaves the family’s airfield in her hands, she knows it’s time to step up and behave like a Responsible Adult ™. So of course that’s when Archer Ellison III blows into her tiny town of Captivity, Alaska, every inch the hot-as-hell mistake that most definitely belongs in her past. Been there, done that, and didn’t even get to keep the commemorative sweatshirt
Archer has only ever had two goals. Now that he’s built his own empire outside his father’s company, he can move on to goal #2—winning back the one who got away by whatever means necessary. He knows it won’t be easy. Bridget Shanahan is older, wiser, more self-assured, and jaw-droppingly stunning…and doing everything she can to pretend the scorching chemistry between them doesn’t exist.
But fate is on his side. After an impulsive bet that would have sent Archer packing goes awry, Bridget is officially stuck with him. Which is really inconvenient, since falling for Archer again is the least responsible thing she could do.
Romance Contemporary [Entangled: Amara, On Sale: January 17, 2022, e-Book, / eISBN: 9781649372697]
Buy PLAYING DIRTY IN ALASKA: Kindle
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About Samanthe Beck
Wine lover, sleep fanatic, and USA Today Bestselling Author of sexy contemporary romance novels, Samanthe Beck lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with her long-suffering husband, Charles, and their turbo-son, Hud. Throw in a furry ninja assassin named Gander, a few hundred Nerf blasters, one electric guitar, (with amp!), and…well…you get the picture.
When not dreaming up fun, fan-your-cheeks ways to get her characters to happy-ever-after, she searches for the perfect cabernet to pair with ASMR podcasts.
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