Bad Moon Rising Dance of Seduction Midnight Encounters Going for It
Red Hot Summer Hot Summer Nights Hidden Desires
Out of Uniform Heat of the Moment Heat of Passion Heat of the Storm Heat It Up
Coming Soon:
The Heat Is On
Letting her into his life is not an option. Letting her go…impossible.
Heat It Up
? 2010 Elle Kennedy
Out of Uniform, Book 4
One look at Thomas Becker’s seriously ripped body, and Jane Harrison is having trouble remembering why she tracked down the Navy SEAL. Oh, yes, that hot scoop for her magazine. Instead they get trapped in an elevator together—and she gets sizzling hot sex.
After the delicious encounter is over, Becker’s out of there, she’s left off balance, and even more determined not to take no for an answer. Either for that interview, or another chance to find out if he always goes commando.
One minute Becker is making it plain his answer is no. The next, he’s using the only weapon at hand to calm her confined-space panic attack—a kiss. And caving in to a fierce, unexpected need that wasn’t even on his radar. Long term? Hell no—not after the divorce that just spit him out. But a fling with the redheaded reporter with a brutally honest mouth and a body made for sin? Abso-effing-lutely.
Trouble is, when the week is over, she isn’t even close to being out of his system…
Warning: Contents under pressure. Hot elevator sex, a redhead who knows exactly what she wants, and a Navy SEAL who can’t help but give it to her. May cause spontaneous combustion. Be sure to fan yourself frequently.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Heat It Up:
Becker resisted a sigh. Shit, he really needed to quit thinking about the divorce. It had been finalized months ago, and yet here he was, constantly thinking about his ex-wife. Maybe he needed to take a page out of his teammates’ books and indulge in some random, no-strings sex.
And double shit, because sex was definitely something he shouldn’t be thinking about either. Not now, anyway.
The woman in his lap shifted, letting out a wobbly breath that broke through the silence. “Okay, this isn’t working,” she choked out. “Maybe you can try to distract me? Talk to me about something.”
Becker fought a wave of discomfort. Wonderful. If there was one thing he sucked at, it was talking. Especially to women.
“Please,” she added, obviously seeing the reluctance in his eyes.
“Talk about what?” he finally asked, caving in.
“Anything. Tell me about the bullet wound in your arm, your favorite movie, your pet peeves. I don’t care.” Another shaky breath.
“Um, okay.” He paused. “Well, bullet wounds hurt.”
Her lips quirked, and Becker was startled by the little spark of pleasure he got from knowing he’d made her smile. “What does it feel like? Is it like a knife wound? Because I know what thatfeels like.”
“When the hell did you get a knife wound?”
“College. I was a reporter for the school paper and I went to interview this meth addict for a piece I was doing. Only he was super high and thought I was a narc.” She offered a small shrug, as if to say no biggie.
Despite himself, Becker grinned. “Remember earlier how I said you were persistent? Well, correction—you’re nuts.”
“It was an important story. Getting knifed added some color to the piece.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “So, the bullet…?”
“Right. Well, to be honest, I didn’t even feel it at first. Adrenaline running too high, you know. I was too focused on getting your sister into the chop—” He narrowed his eyes. “All this is off the record, right?”
Jane made a face. “Unfortunately. But I still think you should let me interview you.”
“Not interested.”
“Fine.” She gave a little pout, which brought another smile to his lips. “At least finish the story.”
“Yes, ma’am. So, like I said, didn’t feel a thing at first, not until I climbed into the chopper. Then the pain hit me, like a streak of lightning. Arm started throbbing, head spinning from the loss of blood. Felt like someone stuck a live wire straight into my bone.”
“Is that the first time you’ve been shot?”
“First time I’ve had a bullet in me, yeah. I’ve been grazed a few times, knifed, slashed by a machete once…” His voice drifted, and he smiled at the horror in her eyes. “Part of the job.”
“I could never do it,” Jane said frankly. “A job where I’m constantly getting injured? No thank you. I’d way rather interview people in the comfort of their homes.”
He shot her a curious glance. “What kind of stories do you write?”
“Whatever I get assigned. Last issue I had a piece about insider trading, the one before that was a story about human trafficking.”