Kimberly Terry - To Love a Wilde

The first touch of his lips against hers ignited a flame that blew Holt’s earlier conviction—that his fascination with her was a passing thing—wide apart, like a pallet of dynamite

He slanted his mouth over hers, taking nibbling bites from her plush lower rim, pulling it inside his mouth and lavishing it with his tongue. She whimpered when he released it, only to glide his tongue across the seam of her lips in a sensual seesawing motion until she parted her lips for him, silently inviting him inside.

When he felt her tentatively reach out and wrap her arms loosely around his neck, Holt brought her closer, flush against him, her soft curves molding against his hard body. Her big, beautiful breasts pressed tightly against his chest.

He was on fire for her. What had started out as a simple need to taste her, to find out if her lips were as soft as they looked, had escalated into a blazing need that was beginning to consume him.

And damned if he didn’t want to get devoured in the blaze.

Dear Reader,

Writing Jasmine and Holt’s story, the second book in the Wyoming Wilde family miniseries, was rewarding, but often challenging! As I wrote their story and saw them coming to vivid life, these two characters were, at times, fun, sexy and completely irreverent. Other times they were stubborn and obstinate. They are two people who are bound and determined not to succumb to what everyone around them can see is inevitable—that they are falling in love. Hard.

What started off as a simple story of a woman who fell in love with a man, became one that was boundary-pushing and unpredictable, but always a hot, wild and amazing love story.

I hope you enjoy reading Jasmine and Holt’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

As always, keep it sexy;)

Kimberly Kaye Terry

KIMBERLY KAYE TERRY

KIMBERLY KAYE TERRY’Slove for reading romances began at an early age. Long into the night, she would stay up until she reached “The End” with her Mickey Mouse night-light on, praying she wouldn’t be caught reading what her mother called “those” types of books. Often, she would acquire her stash of “those” books from beneath her mother’s bed. Ahem. To date she’s an award-winning author of fourteen novels in romance and erotic romance, has garnered acclaim for her work and happily calls writing her full-time job.

Kimberly has a bachelor’s degree in social work and a master’s in human relations and has held licenses in social work and mental health therapy in the United States and abroad. She volunteers weekly at various social-service agencies and is a long-standing member of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc., a community-conscious organization. Kimberly is a naturalist and practices aromatherapy. She believes in embracing the powerful woman within each of us and meditates on a regular basis. Kimberly would love to hear from you. Visit her at www.kimberlykayeterry.com.

Books by Kimberly Kaye Terry

Kimani Romance

Hot to Touch To Tempt a Wilde To Love a Wilde

Kimberly Kaye Terry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

“Are you okay, baby? Is the rope too tight?”

Hot liquid eased down her inner thighs in response to the words whispered coarsely against her neck.

“No.” She paused and drew in a breath. “They’re … they’re not too tight, I mean. I … I’m okay.” She stammered out the response.

“Good.”

One word and he had her going crazy.

Yasmine’s head tossed on the pillow, her lids tightly closed and her breath coming out in hitched puffs of air as she eagerly waited to feel his mouth against hers and his big body blanket her, forcing her farther down on the mattress.

“But you have to tell me, baby.”

She shivered as the whispered words feathered along her neck. Her body bowed, arching toward him, desperate to meet his scalding-hot touch.

“Tell you … tell you what?” she panted, groaning when he captured the lobe of her ear with his teeth and tugged.

“You know what I want to hear.” He licked the side of her neck with his tongue.

She felt his hand skim up her thigh, past her hip, over her waist and up the midline of her body before he cupped one of her breasts in his big hand, strumming his thumb over her nipple until it tightened against his palm.

“Tell me, Yas.” He drawled the words against her ear in a voice so deep it sent shivers dancing along her spine. The breath that fanned the hair at her temple made her draw in a ragged breath.

Even as she arched into his embrace, ready to tell him whatever it was he wanted to hear, to end the sensual storm that raced in her body, the same one that had been burning for ten years, a nagging buzz in the distance distracted her, refusing to go away.

In frustration she raised a hand, surprised at the ease with which she removed it from the ropes binding her wrists together, and batted away at thin air, as though to make the noise go away.

It grew louder, more insistent. She opened her mouth, ready to tell him whatever he needed to hear, to tell him how she really felt about him, the way she’d felt about him since the first time she’d met him, when she was no more than a child. Ready to tell him that as much as she’d tried to let go and move on with her life, thoughts of him were always there, in the back of her mind, hovering … but the buzz grew so loud and strident Yasmine knew she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Her eyes flew open.

With a cry of disappointment and pent-up frustration, she glared up at the ceiling, her heart pounding and sweat trickling down the valley between her breasts.

She didn’t have to look around to see if she was alone. She already knew.

She’d had yet another wake-me-up-before-I-go-go dream, featuring none other than Holt Wilde. Another scalding-hot dream where yet again she’d awakened horny, frustrated. And all alone.

“Don’t forget that part,” she mumbled aloud in self-disgust. “Seems like I’ve been alone my entire life.”

She shook her head in a feeble attempt to dispel the lingering images of the two of them locked in an embrace so hot she felt her cheeks burn. She swallowed deeply, placing her palms over her burning face.

She’d traveled the world, studied with some of the world’s best chefs, and now, after her stunning win of a televised major culinary competition, she was able to see her lifelong dream of owning her own upscale restaurant come to life.

Her life now was exactly as she dreamed it would be and more.

She had no time in her life for adolescent dreams. Now wasn’t the time to allow ghosts from her past to enter her life. Even if the ghost was six-feet-plus of raw masculinity that had filled enough dreams to last her a lifetime.

At any rate, it wasn’t as though she had now or ever occupied his thoughts the way he had hers. The man didn’t even know she was alive.

“Time to face the world … seize the moment, and all that jazz,” she mumbled, purposely infusing energy and optimism into her voice, reciting her favorite mantra. Even to her own ears, her voice was flat.

Yasmine rose from bed and stuffed her feet inside her slippers before making her way to the bathroom.

Just as she was turning on the showerhead, the phone rang. After glancing at the clock, seeing the early hour, she was seconds away from ignoring it, thinking it was just some telemarketer. Saturday mornings seemed to be their M.O. for calling her, nine times out of ten. But with everything going on in her life over the past few months, she didn’t want to chance missing an important call.