I Am Justice
By Diana Muñoz Stewart
Blurb:
She's ready to start a war
Justice Parish takes down bad guys. Rescued from the streets by the world renowned Parish family, she joined their covert sisterhood of vigilante assassins. Her next target: a sex-trafficking ring in the war-torn Middle East. She just needs to get close enough to take them down...
He just wants peace
Sandesh Ross left Special Forces to found a humanitarian group to aid war-torn countries. But saving the world isn't cheap. Enter Parish Industriesand limitless funding, with one catch—their hot, prickly 'PR specialist', Justice Parish.
Their chemistry is instant and off-the-charts. But when Justice is injured and her cover blown, Sandesh has to figure out if he can reconcile their missions. With danger dogging their every move, their white-hot passion can change the world—if it doesn't destroy them first.
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Excerpt
Standing
in the ornate bar, only half-full of patrons, with music playing softly,
Sandesh felt Justice’s sultry invitation to dance run down his body like a hot
finger.
He
couldn’t control the hungry leer that traveled the silky, blue dress that
spanned her body, her hips, and the satisfying curve of a great ass like a warm
hand.
Damn, he
wanted to rest his own hand against that fine ass, pull her to him. The short,
midnight-blue dress showed off sun-drenched legs. Her nipples pressed against
the deep-blue hue and stood at attention under the drape of fabric that swooped
and rested against her breasts.
And, ah,
her lips. So full.
So damn
sure.
A grin
that announced the game was won and dinner was ready all in one lazy, long
predatory stretch. Part of his body throbbed in response. The rest of him was
pretty damn annoyed.
Wasn’t
she the one who had suggested they keep it PG? Was she playing games?
Justice’s
eyes, soaked in velvet onyx and framed by midnight lashes, narrowed. “Okay, I
give. You eat me up with your stare and then you hesitate. What is it with you?
Do you have something against strong women?”
Sandesh
snorted. “For someone so direct, you are seriously clueless.”
“I’m
clueless? Buddy, you have no idea of the opportunity for friction and fun you
are passing up right now.” He had to laugh. Had to. Not just because she was
quick and funny, but because she was all of that—not afraid to speak her mind,
heat and energy, and the promise of friction and fun.
His
fingers left the edge of the cold espresso and sought out her hand. He needed
to feel all of that energy and fire pressed up against him. “Okay. Let’s
dance.”
She
didn’t resist. Another surprise. She’d taken his hesitation personally. He’d
thought she’d make him pay for that. But she didn’t. She simply bequeathed him
with a that’s-more-like-it smile. Seriously, this woman was scorching hot.
“At this
Moment” by Billy Vera and the Beaters played through the speakers. Not what he
would’ve expected here.
He
pulled her to him as they hit the empty dance floor. She curved into him,
drawing a sound from his throat that was as involuntary as breathing. She
purred into his ear.
“That’s
one.”
His hand
slid along the silk fabric of her dress, down her back to her smooth, round,
and hot-as-hell ass. And there he went. Zero to sixty. He cleared his throat.
“One?”
She ran
a tongue over his earlobe and inside his ear.
That
warm, wet stroke sent tremors zinging low into his body. Her sultry voice
meshed with that teasing tongue and vibrated through him. “I’m counting how
many different ways I can get you to moan.”
He
growled, a raw, desperate sound that even to his own muffled ears sounded like
raging intent.
She
laughed. “Two.”
Okay.
Definitely time to divert the conversation. Complex math, anyone? Or a subject
destined to slow down any hot moment. “Have you spoken to your mother about our
progress here?”
She
laughed, as if she could see him wrestling control from the moment. She moved
her mouth close enough that he could feel her breath on his neck. “No. But I’d
like to meet your mother. You’ve met mine. It’s only fair. What’s she like?”
“You’d
like her. At least who she used to be.”
“Used to
be?”
“She’s
been sick for a few years. Early-onset Alzheimer’s. She’s at a care center. I
have friends and family scheduled to sit and read with her every night I’m
away.”
“Oh. I’m
sorry.” She looked past him for a moment, then returned her gaze to his. “So
what you’re telling me is that while you’re away on your humanitarian mission,
you’ve organized it so your mother will always be watched over by a close
friend or family member. You do realize I already want to sleep with you. You
don’t have to sweeten the pot.”
He
laughed. Only this woman would think talking about his mom—meant to cool things
off—was sexy.
“Sandesh,
I’m serious.” She began to roll her hips.
His eyes
rolled back in his head.
That.
Felt. So. Fucking. Good. Nothing like a violent hard-on to give a woman the
upper hand. Her hand. His hard-on. Settle. Settle.
Fuck it.
His lips
came down on hers. There was an instant and overwhelming zing of electricity.
Mindless of where he was, he tasted her, tickled, and teased her mouth open.
Her wet response, the moan against his lips as his tongue played back, caused
fire to erupt down his body.
Dubdubdub,
dubdubdub, pulsated through him. He couldn’t tell what throbbed faster—his cock
or his heart. He deepened the kiss. She opened wider, accelerated the roll of
her hips.
Time to
go. Time to get her off the dance floor and into his bed. Or her bed. Which
room was closer?
The
phone in his pocket buzzed. Justice stiffened in his arms. She pulled her sweet
mouth away. “You should answer it.”
He
tightened his grip on her. He ran his nose down her face, inhaled her
lavender-warmed-by-the-sun scent.
“Ignore
it.” Please. God. Ignore it.
“Your
mission.” Justice shook her head. “I can’t do that.”
Oh.
Shit. Not happening. He looked into her eyes, her endless depths,
midnight-and-mystery eyes. She was serious.
She
stepped back.
Fuck.
He
answered the phone. It was Salma. The tremor in her voice doused the fire in
his body. A tsunami would’ve had less impact.
“Sandesh,
please, I need your help.”
About The Author
Diana Muñoz Stewart is the award-winning, romantic suspense author of the Band of Sisters series, which includes I Am Justice (Sourcebooks Casablanca). She lives in eastern Pennsylvania in an often chaotic and always welcoming home that—depending on the day—can include husband, kids, extended family, friends, and a canine or two. When not writing, Diana can be found kayaking, doing sprints up her long driveway—harder than it sounds–practicing yoga on her deck, flying, climbing, or hiking with the man who’s had her heart since they were teens.
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