Today we have the blog tour for RED
by S.M. West!
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About RED:Red. The color of extremes. Tate Conrad’s existence is annihilated. Destroyed by two men: one, her hero and the other, her worst nightmare. She has nothing to lose. Determined to survive, vengeance feeds her. There are no limits, no boundaries, not even death, in seeking liberation. ******* Rylan Wolfe is driven. A stellar FBI agent close to breaking the case of a lifetime. It’s more than career-making, it’s personal. Tate’s the linchpin to it all. They need each other to succeed. For Tate, is he her salvation or ruin?
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Wolfe opens the door, smirks and walks into the apartment. He’s been in a fight. His left eye is angry, red and swollen.
“Rylan, what happened to you?” I tag his shoulder and slip past him, my chest grazing his arm. The heat from our touch tingles through my chest. I take a closer look at the cut above his eye.
“Would you let it go if I said you should see the other guy?” He playfully responds. His full, red lips turn up into a smile, blue eyes twinkle with amusement.
“Nope. What happened?”
I notice a doorway leading into a small galley kitchen. Without asking, I enter, opening drawers and cupboards until I find a cloth. Grabbing ice from the freezer, I dump a few cubes on the cloth and motion for him to come closer.
Slowly walking toward me, his penetrating eyes questioning, “What happened here?”
His thumb tenderly runs along my bottom lip. My tongue grazes the tip of his digit. His touch and salty taste spark a tingling heat across my skin. A deep yearning takes hold. Something I’ve fought for weeks. Something forbidden.
“I asked first,” I murmur.
The back of his hand skims my jaw and down the side of my neck. Pushing my hair off my shoulder, he gently cups the nape of my neck causing shivers down my spine. His thumb slides back and forth over my pulse point, tilting his head to the side and his eyes narrow, examining my skin.
“What happened here? It looks like a fucking bite,” he growls.
Shit, Bobby. Inspecting my skin, a tempest is brewing in his captivating eyes. Volatile energy radiates off him in waves.
“I’ll tell you, if you tell me.”
My fingers tentatively and tenderly trace the small cut dissecting his dark eyebrow. Placing the makeshift ice pack gently on his eye, his long fingers wrap around mine. I could pull my hand away. He’s got it, but I don’t. Time stops as we stare intently at each other.
Both held captive by this powerfully invisible pull. We’re suspended in this mercurial moment of hunger. We always seem to find ourselves here no matter what we do. His phone rings, breaking the spell.