"Not really?" #MFRWhooks

DANGEROUS HEAT ‘Men of Fire’ Trilogy 

By Sloan McBride

Excerpt 

“You are mine.” The masked attacker’s alcohol-laden breath caressed her upturned cheek while one hand roughly grabbed at her breasts.

The attacker lifted her off her feet and threw her to the ground. Pain sliced a wedge in her head as it bounced off the grassy lawn. The assailant’s weight held her down, while dry lips smashed against her neck.

Her emotions overrode everything else. Anger and fear warred for dominance. She thrust a knee toward the asshole’s groin, but missed the mark. His fingers tightened on her arms, bruising the tender flesh. The bottom of her shirt rode high, and the slime skimmed a hand along her bare ribcage. It took every ounce of control she possessed not to heave in revulsion.

Festival music blared from giant speakers, drowning out Whitney’s hoarse cries for help. Fear strangled her, cutting off much-needed oxygen. Her strength waned, but she had to hold on. Losing would mean the unthinkable. She balled her right hand and punched the guy upside the head. He fell partially to the side then straightened, closing his hand around her fist. “I like it when you fight.” The attacker pressed her arm and hand to the ground and lowered to do who knew what next.

Unexpectedly, the assailant’s weight lifted.

She rolled to her side, and tried to focus on the silhouetted form who tackled the bastard, landing a right hook to his jaw. The attacker kicked her savior, knocking him across the lawn, got up and ran away.

“Jesus. Are you okay?” Murphy limped over, holding his stomach, and knelt next to her.

Whitney curled into a fetal position, the sound of her brother’s voice a blessing, and his gentle touch a welcome relief. “Not really. This is officially the worst day of my life.”

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