Published by St. Martin’s Press Genres: Contemporary Romance
Their love was the stuff of Shakespeare - two star-crossed lovers from rival MC's, divided by their families' bloody history, but fate has given Eagle and Serafina a second chance. Can the biker and the stripper find their redemption in Violetta Rand's sexy standalone romance, One Taste of Angel?
I’ve bled for my club. Taken four bullets. Buried eight brothers in six years. Screwed a hundred women. And only loved one. The one I lost. But there's something about Serafina that reminds me of just exactly what was taken from me. Not just because I can't resist a damsel in distress.
To Eagle, I’m dead. Murdered and cremated, my ashes interred at the local cemetery. Part of a past I left long ago to save his life. Seeing him now, touching him again makes me weak, even if he doesn't recognize the woman I've become. Since my escape from Holly Beach five years ago, I’ve lived by my own rules. And no matter how much I love Eagle, he’s not going to break those rules.
“Riveting, gritty cast of characters! I was captivated by this intimate glimpse into the volatile MC world. Violetta Rand’s ability to portray the essence of true love is enjoyable. Great read!” -USA Today Bestselling Author D.L. Roan
“You owe me,” I say as I close the distance between us. “I’ll take a kiss as payment.” Serafina looks lost, but she doesn’t resist when I reach her and cup her face between my hands, pulling her closer, lowering my mouth over hers.
I pause for a brief moment, looking her deep in the eyes, waiting for that spark to ignite into the inferno I know is already burning strong between us.
“D-don’t,” she half pleads.
But I do. Her lips part and my tongue strokes against hers. The fire is immediate and all-consuming. I tangle my fingers in the length of her hair, angling her head for better penetration, my tongue embedded so deep I can feel the back of her throat. The way she tastes only inspires me to want to kiss and lick that hot wet pussy I saw earlier. There’s nothing ordinary about her. I swallow her moans, running my hand up and down her arm.
Kissing her long and deep only reinforces the attraction—makes my cock throb and ache like I haven’t had a piece of ass in months.
“No.” She pushes me away, wide-eyed and frazzled.
“Serafina,” I chant her name like a holy vow. “You can’t deny what we’re feeling.”
“I can. And will.”
“Listen, baby . . .”
“Don’t call me that! There’s no way in hell you’ve earned that right.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t want you to touch me again.”
Why? Chemistry like this doesn’t happen too often. Almost never. And I’m not prepared to let it slip through my fingers without a fight, or at least a plausible explanation. “Are you married?”
I never thought to ask before.
“In a committed relationship?”
“You’re way off, Eagle.” She hugs her center, laying more bricks in that defensive wall.
“Enlighten me, then. I have all night.”
“I don’t.” She fakes a yawn. “Some of us work for a living.”
I smirk at her judgmental tone. “Do you think I sit around on my ass all day?”
“That prez patch says you don’t have to work hard to get what you want.”
“For a girl who claims not to know me, you’re pretty free with your opinions.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been around enough to understand the inner workings of an MC. Not much difference between your rules and a regular company, now is there?”
I rub my chin, liking the hotness of her smartass mouth. The more she talks the more intrigued I get. “Maybe not, pretty girl, but I guarantee my ideas are a lot more innovative than something some asshole in a suit will think up in his corner office.”
She laughs. “I doubt it. We’re standing in a bedroom inside the home of one of the most notorious cartel lords in the United States. I’ll bet on the guy in the suit.”
“Come here.” I grip her shoulders and yank her close again. Our lips meet for a more desperate and demanding kiss. This time, her tongue wrestles mine for control. Bad. And for a girl who didn’t want anything to do with me ten minutes ago, she sure changed her mind.
I break the kiss and tip her chin upward. “I want to fuck you, Serafina.”
“No.” She gives me a defiant pout, but I can see through her denial. Her eyes are filled with hunger. “I need a drink.”
I need a goddamned bottle of tequila—and a cold shower. “What do you want?”
“Whiskey and coke.”
Unable to deny that beautiful face anything, I’ll get it for her. But first . . . I move quickly, gathering her clothes and shoes, and stuff them in the suitcase she opened earlier. Then I zip it up and carry it to the door.
“What?” I ask.
“You can’t leave me here with nothing to wear.