Excerpt: Zero to Sixty by Marie Harte

He stared at her as if he’d never seen a woman before. “You hit me.”

She blushed. “You told me to.”

“I didn’t think you’d really do it that hard. You gave it a whack.” He looked a bit odd. He leaned closer, staring at her, checking for something, apparently.

“What? What’s wrong? I didn’t break it, did I?” She still held his hand, and this time she turned it over, more than aware of their disparity in size.

“Nah. I’m good. But you…” He paused. “You’re not that nice or sweet, are you?”

“What did you say?” She stiffened and would have dropped his huge hand, except he curled it around hers. “Sam, I—” He lowered his head, standing so close she could feel his breath on her lips. All thought left her.

“Not so sweet at all,” he murmured.

The miniscule gap between them closed. Had he moved? Had she?

The feel of his mouth over hers stunned her. So much heat, so much electricity.

He froze and pulled back. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Ivy didn’t give a damn. She yanked him back and plastered her mouth over his, needing more of that fire to burn through her, licking up the need and spreading it throughout her body.

For a split second, Sam didn’t move. Then he groaned and wrapped his arms around her back. Before she knew it, he’d lifted her in his arms and seated them on her couch. Her knees straddled his lap, while she continued to kiss him until she couldn’t breathe.

Nothing made sense but getting more of Sam. She squirmed over him, hungry for something just out of reach. His taste, his scent, the sense of such strength underneath her. So much hunger for the man made it impossible to resist when with a large hand, he squeezed her breast.

She moaned against his mouth, aware she was fast losing control. But her kiss had nothing on his. With a subtlety that impressed her, he slowly took charge of the embrace. The masterful way he kissed her, the variated pressure, the softness from such a large, ferocious man, stole her will to do anything but respond. Caged in his arms, lost to desire—hers or his, she couldn’t tell—Ivy followed his lead.