Saturday, October 5, 2013

TRACING THE STARS by @CE_Kilgore Rafflecopter!! #Space #Scifi #Romance #Oct #ASMSG

(Corwint Central Agent Files #3)
(Keep reading for the Rafflecopter!)

The Blurb:

Tara Flint has never denied her heart's attraction to the floppy-haired, brown-eyed Hankarron, even if he can be a stupid limik sometimes. Her strong will falters as she is forced to decide between a promise she made to her father, a boy she has loved since she had pigtails and the possibility of finding out what her life might be like without the presence of Hankarron always by her side.

When you get knocked down, you get back up and hit the other guy harder. Trip 'Wild Fists' Weston is a Runata'ji combat fighter at the top of his career with a fame and fortune he doesn't want and a Lucky Clover tattooed across his heart to remind him of the girl who is always just out of reach. When Tara's luck lands her in his lap without Hankarron on her heels, Trip wonders if this is his chance to capture his Clover, or if Tara's luck has other ideas in mind. Fate doesn't always give you want you want, but it will always give you what you need.

Jennadri Szina doesn't have time for matters of the heart or trying to get two wayward agents back on track. She's got a mission to run, a Director who is dying and a mother who isn't easy to impress. When Jehdra sends her to save Hank and Tara, Jen takes her mother's mission on at full speed, but she isn't prepared to manage 'Wild Fists' Weston and his damn dimple.

They say that the stories of our time will one day be traced into the stars to help guide others home. Fate strings intertwine with skipping stones across the stars of the universe, pulling it forward and writing new lines in the night sky as the Corwint Central Agent saga continues to lead Ethan, Orynn and Jarren towards a collision that holds the power to change everything.


In this excerpt, Jennadri and Trip try to expel some anxious energy surrounding the dangerous mission they are on.

“Tell you what,” Jen picked the remote off the bed and flicked the view-screen off, tossing the remote onto the floor in front of the entertainment console. “How bout we just go to bed.”

His mouth went dry as he considered the inferred meaning from the tone of her question and the playful smirk on her lips. “Yeah, sure.”

Despite believing he understood the meaning, his feet stayed anchored in place as Jen shut the desk lamp off, walked up one side of the bed and trailed her fingers over the grey posh comforter. She downturned the sheets, beat a fist into one of the overly stuffed pillows and tapped the console on the nightstand. The ceiling perimeter lighting dimmed into a soft moon-glow and she unhooked her belt, dropping it to the floor. The heat rose up Trip’s neck and straight into his head as the blood in his body switched directions, his gaze unable to look away as she peeled herself out of her tight, dark blue skirt, leaving her in the black tank top, a pair of blue panties and a holstered gun nestled against her inner thigh. It was the sexiest damn thing he had ever laid eyes on.

Removing the holster and slipping into the covers, she looked across the bed at him with a smirking raise of a burning-red eyebrow. “Do you sleep standing up, peach?”

Trip shook away the nerves and set his feet into motion, slipping off his boots and padding barefoot up to the bed. “Maybe. Maybe I should be concerned that you keep referring to me as a piece of fruit.”

“Awe, no insult intended, and I don’t bite. Well,” Jen let the thought trail off and finished her beer, setting the empty bottle down on the nightstand. She pulled down the covers on the other side of the bed and patted the spot next to her. “C’mon, Trip, I swear I won’t paw you.”

“Isn’t that normally the guy’s line?” With a deep inhale, he tugged his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor. His fingers paused as they got to the button of his jeans. 

She took in his tattoos with an appreciative smile, following the lines that ran over his ribcage, across his waist and disappeared into the jeans that were already seated tempting low on his hips. Her tongue flicked over her bottom lip as his fingers unbuttoned and unzipped the denim, the green cloth of his boxers coming into view and doing a poor job at hiding the evidence of his arousal. The jeans lowered to the floor, but again he stopped and remained standing at the edge of the bed, staring at her. The muscles of his chest twitched and she realized how uncomfortable she was making him.

She slid under the covers and turned her back to him, laying her head down on the pillow. “Look, Trip, I’m sorry if I’m making you nervous. I’m only half-Hedarion, but it’s the loud, controlling, and somewhat obnoxious half. I promise to keep it in check.”

He knew immediately what she was referring to and that he hadn’t incorrectly understood her invitation. The Hedari were a race that expressed passionate fire in everything they did, from Runata’ji to sex. Their culture was about living for the moment, in the moment, and living with hajva’ji. No regrets, no strings, just the moment. It was a culture he greatly respected and tried to reflect in the way he lived his own life. And, damn, she was so beautiful.

Jen felt the mattress dip across the wide gap that the enormous king sized bed allowed. There was a tugging on the sheets and comforter, and she found herself exposed and the fabric was pulled off her body. With a growl, she grabbed the edge and tugged back, holding tightly as Trip began pulling again. A giggle erupted as he yanked hard, causing her to roll over and face him, his bare chest the only thing that stopped her motion. Her palms lay flat against the warm skin and she sucked in a breath, suddenly afraid to look up at his face and worried she would see anything but a reflection of the want she was feeling.

Her small frame fit so snuggly against his chest that he had to admit it was almost perfect. The tips of his fingers trailed up the skin of her exposed thigh, stuttering over the edges of her panties. It was impossible to ignore the desire swelling at having a fiery, beautiful woman nestled into him. A grating voice in the back of his head tried to reason with him that he was about to cross a line, too soon and for the wrong reasons, but it was quickly losing out to the loud pumping blood that filled his ears. “Jen, you sure you want this?”

Hajva’ji, Trip. We’re both tense, even after a damn good meal and all that beer, and we both have a big day tomorrow.” She offered him the logical reasons first, hoping to ease the nerves she was now feeling by distancing it from any kind of emotions she may be forming for him. “We could both use a release, and I know I’m going to have trouble getting to sleep with you so close.”

Her words made sense in his head. Well, both heads if he was being honest with himself, and he really could use a release from the crazy day it had been. He was starting to like her, though. Really like her. Could they handle keeping it purely physical without it screwing up a great, budding friendship in the morning? Hajva’ji.

His hand moved up her ribcage and under her tank top. There was no certainty what would come in the morning, but he had a captivating redhead with a clever wit in his arms who was ready and willing. “I’d make it hard for you to sleep, hu?”

Her lips parted in a smile as the mood between them shifted from nervous to playful. “Well you are ‘Wild Fists’ Weston.”

“Ah, a fan!”

She poked his ribs as he chuckled, his hand slipping under the back of her bra. “Of course I’m a fan. Have you seen you fight?”

The practiced movement of his fingers unclasped her bra. “I’m usually paying more attention to the other guy.” 

“Oh?” Jen sank her hand beneath the waistline of his boxers and was rewarded by Trip’s sharp intake of breath and a swallowed moan. Light feathering touches of her fingertips stroked the fire between them and he hardened in her palm. “Seems you aren’t paying attention to the advances of your opponent this time.”

Trip flinched and stifled another moan as her fingers teased and stroked. Hot fucking damn. “Yeah, well, she fights dirty.”

“Peach,” Jen raised up on her knees and tore off her tank-top and bra, tossing them behind her. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“I disagree.” The words barely made it out of his throat as her rounded breasts, tipped in dark, taught nipples, came into view. Her hair shimmered in the dim lighting, creating an ethereal vision of the goddess Tra’ja herself, all desire and cunning and passion, the idyllic representation of everything that it was to be a woman of Hedari.  All caution and bets were off as his gaze fell to the grey-blue panties between her spread thighs. Lifting his gaze back up to her matching irises, he knew there was nothing that could stop them in that moment, even the honest emotions he let creep into his voice. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Frai’taji.”

A warm arc of electricity spiraled up her spine at the sound of her native Hedarion language on his lips. His earlier nickname of simply Red had evolved into Frai’taji, beautiful fire. She had to admit that she liked it. A lot.

Her hands pushed against his broad shoulder and he gave no resistance as he fell back against the mattress. There was trust in his blue eyes and unmasked want. Her lips trailed kisses down the rock-hard muscles of his abdomen as they flexed and quivered at her touch. Her fingers scouted the path further down under the waistline of his boxers and over the other unmistakable sign of his desire for her.

Curling her fingers into the fabric, she lifted and tugged his boxers over the jutting shaft of his erection, keeping her eyes intensely focused on his unwavering stare as she guided the fabric down his legs and off his feet. He was devouring her with his eyes and it was pooling a wet heat between her legs. Instead of grabbing at her or forcing the lead like she had expected, he was giving her control and letting her set the pace. He didn’t even need to touch her to stir the tingling ache growing within her, and that frightened her for a brief moment, then her eyes darted to the pillar of his erection and all fear was lost to the simple want to feel him moving inside her. 

Trip fisted the sheets as Jen’s eyes continued to pin him against the mattress, and when the tip of her tongue traced up the underside of his cock, he saw stars. Real fucking stars. He’d never seen stars before, even after a night of what he believed had been incredible sex. Incredible sex with some meaningless one-night fangirl who only wanted him for his fame and fortune. Incredibly meaningless sex. This was so different. This was… Oh, shit.

Jen paused with her tongue teasing the tip of his erection as a tremor of unreadable emotion flashed over his eyes and he opened his mouth to say something. Maybe he thought this was a bad idea, after all. He wasn’t Hedarion, despite being involved with their culture. Or maybe he was afraid one of her eyes would pop out in the middle of fucking. That last, self-inflicted dose of bitterness almost choked her. She knew Trip wasn’t like that. He wouldn’t hurt her like that, would he? “You still with me, peach?”

Was he? Trip took a deep breath to think it over. He had a gorgeous, intelligent and willing woman licking his cock and asking if he wanted to continue. A small burn etched across the skin of his chest, reminding him of the hurt he had already suffered that morning. That had been his own fault caused by his expectations for something, deep down, he knew was never going to happen. Expectations that had compounded into some sort of fantasy about an unattainable woman to give him something to reach for while he kept all the fangirls at arm’s length. 

He exhaled and stared down at Jen as understanding dawned on him. Her eyes echoed his cautious want and there was the subtle hint of something more. She was no flirtatious fangirl. She wasn’t Tara. She was so much more than both, but he wasn’t going to place any expectations on her shoulders. Not this time. Hajva’ji. 



C.E. Kilgore (1981 - ) has always had a love of romantic stories and science fiction. Although active in the writing community during her undergraduate studies, she chose to focus on her love of history and culture. Graduating with an HBA in History and a BA in Cultural Anthropology, she puts a deep emphasis on creating characters and environments within her writing that are full of both culture and history. The relationship development between characters and the worlds they live in is also an important aspect of her stories. Sarcasm, comedy, hidden "modern" references and subtle hints at underlined universal meanings are common within her writing style, but there is always plenty of action and a darker side lurking just around the corner.


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