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Excerpt
She was so damned pretty. She’d always been a tiny package,
not even coming up to my shoulders. Yet she had curves. Lots of them. Even in
the drab sweatpants and white t-shirt two sizes too large—which didn’t hide the
fact she wasn’t wearing a bra—she was perfect. From her hot pink toenails to
her wild hair and every soft inch in between. And it was those soft inches I’d
fantasized as I rubbed one out. For years.
Her chocolate colored eyes were red rimmed from crying, but
it was what I could see in them, the honesty, the truth behind her words. She’d
wanted us, but somehow, in some fucked up way, got the idea Nix and I were into
each other and not her.
Words weren’t going to work here.
“Fuck it,” I said, stepping up to her, cupping her face in
my hands and kissing her. This wasn’t a sisterly fucking peck. Oh no. I
devoured her, swallowed her gasp, claimed that hot, sweet mouth as mine. There
was no fucking way she’d think we were gay now.
Nix growled, an animalistic sound I could relate to. I
lifted my head, stepped back, watched Kit sway. Her eyes were closed, her lips
red and glistening. Nix nudged me out of the way and kissed her next. Seeing my
best friend with Kit didn’t make me jealous. It made me hard. My dick could
pound nails. She’d been ours for so long and now we could finally prove it.
There was no confusion now. I’d wanted her for so long, I
was beyond sexually frustrated. I was just frustrated. A
misunderstanding of fucking epic proportions had driven Kit to a different
fucking state. Even worse, she’d been back in Cutthroat for five weeks. Five.
Fucking. Weeks. Neither Nix or I had known. More time lost.
And now… fuck, now she was mixed up in a murder? A prime
suspect because she had no alibi. She’d been covered in Erin’s blood. Her DNA
was all over the body. Nix had shared this much with me, but I didn’t need the
details to know she was innocent. What would be her motive? Money? Did Kit want
Erin dead to take over the business for herself? Had Erin made her a
beneficiary in her will? Life insurance? Erin had been twenty-five, not
seventy-five. If there had been a blip on any of these questions, no doubt my
office would have heard by now and put Kit behind bars.
But I’d heard nothing from the Mills family. Nothing from my
boss, who no doubt played golf with Keith Mills. As prosecutor, it was my job
to see the murderer put behind bars. Using evidence. Motive. Means. It was
Nix’s job to find all that, mine to make a jury believe it without a shadow of
a doubt.
Getting involved with the prime suspect of a murder
investigation? Not a smart move. Ever since my mom had been hit and killed by a
drunk driver—ever since the guy had gotten off with a slap on the wrist and a
few points on his license—I’d made it my mission to see bad guys get the
justice they deserved. Everything I’d done since then had been to see that
happen. It wouldn’t bring my mom back, but it might give others the peace of
mind, the ability to sleep at night, that I didn’t get.
Besides all that, my dad would shit a brick if he knew I was
getting myself in deep with Kit Lancaster. Since he was mayor, he was probably
tugging at his shirt collar worrying that a killer in Cutthroat wouldn’t be
found. That wouldn’t sit right with the voters. Oh, he loved having a son in
the DA’s office—to him our two jobs were like peanut butter and jelly for
keeping the town safe—but not one who fucked the prime suspect.
Regardless of her being called that, Kit was innocent. Sure,
if she were on trial, being with her would be a disaster, not only for the
case, but for my job. The defense team would cite anything from conflict of
interest to tampering with the defendant. The case would be thrown out. I’d be fired.
Hell, I’d probably be disbarred.
But Kit was innocent. This wasn’t some easy
lay. Fuck, no. This was Kit Lancaster. I was marrying this woman. She wasn’t a
murderer. She was mine. Ours.
She wouldn’t be arrested. She wouldn’t go to trial. There
was no conflict of interest. Nix would prove she wasn’t involved, that she was
innocent. That would come. Tonight? I was going to make sure Kit did. On my
cock. On my tongue. All night long.
When Nix stepped back, he leaned down, picked her up and
tossed her over his shoulder. Fuck, yes.
Author Bio
Vanessa Vale is the USA Today Bestselling author of over 50
sexy romance novels, including her popular Bridgewater historical romance
series and hot contemporary romances featuring unapologetic bad boys who don't
just fall in love, they fall hard. When she's not writing, Vanessa savors the
insanity of raising two teenage boys and figuring out how many meals she can
make with a pressure cooker. While she's not as skilled at social media as her
kids, she loves to interact with readers.
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