The Infiltrator by K.A. Raines
Thanks for stopping by! This is my first #MFRWSteam Hop, so I hope you’ll leave a comment if you stop by! For my entry, I’m leaving a steamy 18+ excerpt from my debut erotic romance/dystopian novel, The Infiltrator. I hope you enjoy!
M/F, erotic romance, dystopian, post-apocalyptic, sci-fi/fantasy
He was breathing hard and fast through his nose, eyes dangerous as they bore into hers. Only in that moment did she realize that his powerful arms were braced against the wall on either side of her head, his body solid steal where it trapped hers against the bulkhead. His scent—masculine, earthy—invaded her senses, leaving her dizzy. His breath was hot on her face and smelled like a curious mixture of peaches and tobacco. He hadn’t shaved since coming back, and coarse facial hair, peppered with gray, covered his throat and square jaw. She had the most insane urge to lick him as she’d done that night in the kitchen, to feel the rough texture beneath her tongue. She wanted to press her lips against the hollow of his throat, the patch of skin just visible above his collar.
“Why?” she finally asked, her gaze meeting his unwaveringly. Her fingers itched to reach up and touch his face, but she didn’t dare.
“What?” He seemed taken aback by the question, clearly unsure of what she was asking.
“Why do you care?” she breathed. “I’m not your responsibility, Derrick. So…why? It’s a fair question.”
His arms dropped to his sides, and he took several paces back then, putting distance between their bodies once more. He didn’t open his mouth to offer an explanation, but his intense gaze never wavered from hers.
“You wanted to talk,” she said softly. “So, talk.”
“Ain’t some heartless bastard that’d stand aside, let you be brutalized,” he finally muttered. “That what you think o’me?”
“No, I don’t think you’re a heartless bastard. Quite the opposite, actually. But you didn’t answer the question.”
Derrick was chewing his thumbnail, and he finally broke eye contact, looking down at his boots. “Don’t know what the fuck you want me t’say.”
“Tell me why you brought me here.”
“’Cause you was alone.”
“That why you kissed me, too? Because I was alone?”
He bristled. “Jesus, woman. You wanna know why I kissed you? ’Cause I wanted to fuck you,” he ground out harshly. “That’s all. I wanna fuck you, and I don’t want you t’die. Don’t make me no goddamn saint—and it sure as fuck don’t mean I wanna put a ring on your damn finger or whatever the fuck it is yer implyin’.”
“I know you’re not a saint,” she said evenly, “and I’m not implying anything. But you didn’t fuck me, when you could have. I wanted it. So, why didn’t you, Derrick?”
He stared at her for several heartbeats before turning suddenly, clearly on the verge of storming away. She sighed wearily. “Derrick, wait.” She launched forward, reaching unthinkingly to grab his shirt to stop him—but he jerked away so brusquely that the top three buttons popped off his shirt, ripping it partially open. He was staring at her, breathing heavily through his nose and frozen in inaction as he watched her watching him. Abruptly, the room felt absurdly hot, and she was having difficulty keeping her eyes on his face.
“What happened to you?” she breathed. “Who did you lose?” She knew she was pushing him, that she should stop before she went too far, but it felt like observing a train wreck, watching from a distance as the engine rushed ahead at full steam, and, even foreseeing the impending disaster on the tracks, being powerless to stop it. “You risk your life tryin’ to save women and children. Who was she? Your wife?” She didn’t even know why she cared. She didn’t want to care. Derrick Caine was a virtual stranger to her, yet she knew she was already in way too deep.
He growled suddenly, a low, guttural sound that jarred her out of her trance when she rather unexpectedly found her space invaded by him for the third time in the past several minutes. Yet the charge in the air had shifted subtly; he no longer seemed angry, exactly, but there was something decidedly predatory in his eyes.
“The fuck you want from me?” His voice in her ear was a dangerous rumble that elicited chills up her spine and ignited a fire that bloomed hotly in her womb, a delicious contrast. Quite suddenly, all she wanted was to relieve the dull throb between her legs that his voice and presence evoked; she wanted him so badly that she physically couldn’t endure not to have him soon.
You. Just you. “I could ask the same of you,” she settled for, and she couldn’t stop the tremor in her voice. She was overwhelmed by him—by his nearness, by the heat emanating from his body, drawing her in. She tentatively raised a trembling hand, reaching up to touch a raised scar on his chest, just above his left pectoral. His chest continued to visibly rise and fall, and he was breathing hard through his nose in an obvious effort to calm himself, fists clenched in tight balls at his sides. His breathing hitched when she barely touched him, a feather-light caress, her fingertips just skimming the jagged edge of his scar. She had known all along that he was in pain. So much unbearable pain—yet he would never admit it to anyone, least of all her.
“He’s selective about who he chooses to let in,” Lexie had told her. “He’s more vulnerable than he lets on…”
His hand snaked out suddenly, catching her wrist and effectively stopping the downward trail of her fingertips. She shuddered, an irrepressible moan escaping her lips. “Don’t,” he growled, voice somehow even more gravelly than usual. She got the distinct impression, however, that he didn’t really want her to stop, as evidenced by the sizable bulge pressed enticingly against her belly through his jeans. And she’d barely even touched him.
“Please,” she whispered, and his breathing noticeably hitched when she licked her lips.
“You don’t want this. You don’t want me.” His voice was no longer angry, but there was something distinctly aggressive about the way he ground his hips against her belly as he released her wrist, hands landing roughly on her hips.
“I know what I want, Derrick. I’m a big girl.”
He growled, a sound of frustration as he stepped back slightly, and her entire being mourned the loss of contact. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about.”
“Oh, I don’t, do I?” She was unable to suppress the frustration in her own voice as she took a half-step forward, closing the gap between their bodies once more.
“You want me to fuck you, Keira?” His voice was an aggressive bark as he abruptly grabbed her in one swift motion and pinned her against the wall. His head was suddenly tilted downward, his breath hot against her ear as he bit her lobe—hard. “I can do that,” he added, the aggression ebbing somewhat, replaced by a heated urgency as he hiked her leg over his hip and ground against her center. Keira gasped, her hands encircling the back of his head, and their foreheads met. Their lips were mere centimeters apart, his shallow breaths hot on her face, and she thought that he was going to kiss her again…
Keira’s arousal-hazed mind struggled to remember what he was talking about as he thrust his hips against her core, hard, his large hands splayed on her ass, pulling her in and grinding her against him.
“…This is all I can give you,” he continued in a low rumble. “’Cause I ain’t got nothin’ else left to give.”
“Maybe I don’t either.” It was a lie, the same lie that she’d been telling herself. She did, but it was just a matter of whether she was willing. At that moment, however, all she cared about was that he didn’t stop. She was so close already, and they were still both fully clothed.
He let out a sound that was a cross between a grunt and a growl as he released her rather abruptly, allowing her leg to slide back to the floor—and Keira let out a whimper of frustration—but then she realized that he was on his knees before her, attempting to clumsily yank her pants down her hips without undoing the button. “Wanna taste you,” he grunted, his words and voice triggering a surge of warmth that bloomed between her legs anew. She groaned and bit her lip in anticipation, forgetting that they were in a public area even if it was secluded, and not really giving a damn at that moment, as she helped him shove her pants and underwear down her hips in one fell swoop.
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A virus has rendered humanity mostly extinct. Keira Starr is alone, staying alive by staying on the run, sleeping in empty gas stations and the trunks of cars long abandoned on the highway. The world is overrun by “Ghosts,” the mindless, bloodthirsty dead, but they are the least of her problems. She is being hunted by ragtag groups of ruthless men, independent contractors working for a mysterious human trafficking ring. When she is finally captured, she discovers that Derrick Caine, despite his gruff demeanor and appearance, may just have a different agenda altogether.
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