by Sybil Bartel
Publication date: March 20th 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
The Book Junkie Reads . . . Review of . . . ROUGH (Thrust, #2) . . . Hard, fast, deep, long, in-out, harder, harder, harder. Hot. Sexy. Raw. Rough. Kinky. Ex-military hunk with serious dominate male syndrome. Jared had a need to be in control. He had the lifestyle or say job that allowed him to exert that control over women and their bodies. He was well compensated for the job he did. That was until he found one client that he wanted to do more than just control and dominate. He desired her. He wanted her. He needed her. He wanted to make her feel the kink, the heat, the pleasure he could give her at home. The sweet red-head with green eyes, Sienna, had that innocence about her that appealed to Jared in a big way.
Hot, sexy, steamy marines on a mission to work out and control the PTSD that runs through them with no-string, hot-n-heavy sex. This was a hot read that could get you all fired up. Its not necessary but reading book one then book two will allow for you to get to know this group of men in a whole new way.
Thrust – Thrust, #1
Rough – Thrust, #2
I’m not your boyfriend. I’m not the guy next door. I don’t even play nice.
My hands twisting in your hair, my whispered demand in your ear—I’m the fantasy you’ll wish you never had.
When I’m through with you, every inch of your body will know where I’ve been. You won’t crave more, you’ll beg for it. Because I’m not just the cocky smile with military hardened muscles you paid five grand for—I’m the experience you’ll never forget.
One night with me and you’ll know exactly why women pay me to be rough.
Desire hit me in the chest like a blast wave, then shot south. “You shouldn’t be here.” She didn’t look like she’d sounded on the phone.
“I’m sorry.” Breathy, her voice wavered. “I thought you said—”
“I know what I said.” I’d replayed every second of our conversation earlier. I’d fixated on it because this woman wasn’t like any other client I’d ever spoken to. She didn’t flirt or make one suggestive remark. She was exactly how she was now. But a hundred times more innocent.
She drew in a breath through her sexy full lips, then straightened. “Okay, well, you said we should meet. We did. Thank you for your time.” Slim fingers reached behind her and she fumbled with the handle of the front door.
I stared at her sweet mouth. “You know what I think?”
“I’m sure you have many thoughts, Mr. Brandt.”
My name on her lips sounded too damn polite. “Only two right now that matter.” I stepped closer, wondering why the hell I’d told her my last name.
She pulled the handle, the door opened a few inches and she stumbled.
“Careful.” I caught her arm and her hand landed on my stomach.
She sucked in a surprised breath. “I’m so sorry.” She bit her bottom lip and pressed her legs together as she stared at her hand. “It was, um, the door.” She flexed her fingers over my abs.
I leaned closer. “Do you know what separates fear from desire?”
Her chest rapidly rose and fell, but she didn’t take her hand off me. “I believe those are two terms that should be mutually exclusive.”
Hard and fast, I slapped my palm loudly against the door, slamming it shut. Perversely getting off on her startled reaction, I bit out two words, “That’s fear.” Calculated, slow, I dragged a finger a few inches up her bare thigh, then I cupped her face. She shivered and I dropped my voice. “But this?” I stroked her bottom lip as I stared at the thousand shades of fuck-my-life-up green in her eyes. “Biting your lip, pressing your thighs together—that’s desire.”
Her hand fisted, gripping a handful of my shirt, but she didn’t say a word.
Still holding on to her, wishing like hell I wasn’t about to let her go, I calmly shifted her to the side. Opening the door, I removed all threat from my tone. “Fear is triggered. Desire is provoked. Leave.” I told myself not to say the next line. “Or stay and get what you came for.”
Sybil Bartel grew up in Northern California with her head in a book and her feet in the sand. She dreamt of becoming a painter but the heady scent of libraries with their shelves full of books drew her into the world of storytelling. She loves the New Adult genre, but any story about a love so desperately wrong and impossibly beautiful makes her swoon.
Sybil now resides in Southern Florida and while she doesn’t get to read as much as she likes, she still buries her toes in the sand. If she isn’t writing or fighting to contain the banana plantation in her backyard, you can find her spending time with her handsomely tattooed husband, her brilliantly practical son and a mischievous miniature boxer…
Here are ten things you probably really want to know about Sybil.
She grew up a faculty brat. She can swear like a sailor. She loves men in uniform. She hates being told what to do. She can do your taxes (but don’t ask). The Bird Market in Hong Kong freaks her out. Her favorite word is desperate…or dirty, or both—she can’t decide. She has a thing for muscle cars. But never reply on her for driving directions, ever. And she has a new book boyfriend every week—don’t tell her husband.
To find out more about Sybil Bartel, be sure to follow her on Twitter (she loves to hear about your favorite book boyfriend!), visit her website, like her on Facebook or join her Facebook group Book Boyfriend Heroes for exclusive excerpts and giveaways.