CHASING THE WIND
by Nazarea Andrews
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Kaida grew up in two worlds–a child in the Manor raised by Sabah before she was granted Citizenship. But the only place she has ever felt like she’s belonged is with Cedric and Guin, the boys she grew up with.
When Cedric’s involvement in a rebel faction goes wrong, the Commission exiles her and holds Guin hostage. Now, she’s on her own for the first time, and searching for the sister who left her behind and a princess who was stolen from the City–and then she stumbles across a face from the past.
Hawke has been an outcast since his Tribe died. When he finds Sabah’s sister on the road, he agrees to help her. But as they search the wilds and grow closer, his disdain for her is slowly replaced by a deep attraction for the girl who faces every challenge so bravely.
And as the City’s deadline dwindles, and the boy she loves hangs in the balance, Hawke is left to wonder if he is protecting her, or if he the biggest threat she will face.
Nazarea Andrews is an avid reader and tends to write the stories she wants to read. She loves chocolate and coffee almost as much as she loves books, but not quite as much as she loves her kids. She lives in south Georgia with her husband, daughters, and overgrown dog.
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She goes still, and I’m aware of everything about her—the soft play of her emotions on her face, the anger and curiosity in her eyes, the warmth coming off her legs where she’s braced above me, the perfect fit my hands find in her hips. The soft swell of her breasts. Her tongue, darting out to lick her lips nervously.
“Kai,” I murmur, questioning. She presses a finger to my lips, and bites her own. Then, without giving me time to do or say anything, she dips down and kisses me.
I let her control the kiss, the angle and the way her tongue dips, soft and hesitant, into my mouth. The way she slides deeper into my lap, so her legs are straddling me, her hot core pushing against my erection. I want to grind against her, want to shove her skirts out of the way and bury myself in her, but I don’t. I kiss her, and she shivers in the woods, her little fingers sifting through my hair and digging softly into my scalp, tiny pinpricks of pressure. She catches my lower lip between her teeth, bites down slightly, until I growl and roll to pin her. She gasps, but I can see the pure arousal and pleasure in her as she arches against me. I kiss my way down her body, down the long slender column of her throat, to the high neckline of her shirt. Tug at it impatiently until she giggles and sits up, pulling it over her head.
Her bra is so damn impractical. I can’t remember ever seeing a Tribeswoman in a bra as lacy and ethereal as the white and pink creation she’s wearing. I love it.
I want it gone so bad I can’t see straight.