By Cait London
Tempest, Claire, and Leona: triplets blessed—or cursed—with a unique additional experience they might every one deny, given the opportunity . . . Tempest used to be born with the uncanny skill to profit every little thing approximately an object—or even a person—just by means of the contact of her bare palms. yet she is familiar with this present comes at a cost, so she protects herself by way of holding these she loves at a distance, but if a sinister enemy threatens all that she holds pricey, Tempest is pressured to arrive out to Marcus Greystone, who she as soon as touched willingly . . . and with passionate abandon. Marcus hasn't ever forgotten the sensuous evening he and Tempest shared—before she left his mattress with no notice. Now that she wishes his aid, Marcus isn't really letting her pass simply. it really is his likelihood to teach Tempest that his contact may also electrify. yet a meeting typhoon of violence is following Tempest, and a killer waits to get his fingers on her . . .
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Extra resources for A Stranger's Touch
Unfinished . . when it comes to you. No? ” As he forced himself to walk away from Tempest, Marcus expected her to attack him, her expression was fierce enough—those dark gold eyes had bored furiously into his. He’d dreamed about her scent, about her hunger, her passion, and she was just as he remembered— passionate, fiery, but a lot less friendly. When those dark green eyes changed to gold, when she was angry and passionate, reckless maybe, then, he’d have the advantage. Marcus smiled coldly to himself; that slight tremor of Tempest’s body had told him that she remembered their one-night intimacy, her burning like fire beneath him, over him, consuming—and then walking out before he woke up.
A triplet who missed her sisters, their terrified sensations reaching out to her, tangling and connecting with her own senses, Tempest had begun to fight. She’d destroyed an entire set of machines monitoring her before they could stop her—small and agile, she’d been under and over, slashing at everything in her path, determined to free her sisters. Tempest looked at Marcus and coolly lied, “No, I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. ” was dangerously mild. He nodded to the sunken conversation area of the living room.
He didn’t want it to go to a museum, and the price was right. I guess the hunter would be you— you’ve had a busy nine months since we last saw each other. I thought about coming to your adobe studio, but then, you were hunting the brooch. You were rarely home and constantly on the move. ” Marcus noted her grip on the letter opener. Her gloves now were supple black leather, but he remembered the silk ones she’d worn that night, the way they’d glided over his back. Tempest continued staring at him for just a heartbeat, and then she tossed the opener onto the desk.