Deleted Scene & Giveaway: Winterblaze

Guys, you know I love Kristen Callihan's Darkest London series. Book three, Winterblaze is out tomorrow!  To whet your appetite, I am excited to share a deleted scene from the book!!  Check it out below the blurb. And after that, enter the Rafflecopter form for a chance to win your own copy of Winterblaze. (US Only please.)

Once blissfully in love . . .

Poppy Lane is keeping secrets. Her powerful gift has earned her membership in the Society for the Suppression of Supernaturals, but she must keep both her ability and her alliance with the Society from her husband, Winston. Yet when Winston is brutally attacked by a werewolf, Poppy's secrets are revealed, leaving Winston's trust in her as broken as his body. Now Poppy will do anything to win back his affections . . .

Their relationship is now put to the ultimate test.

Winston Lane soon regains his physical strength but his face and heart still bear the scars of the vicious attack. Drawn into the darkest depths of London, Winston must fight an evil demon that wants to take away the last hope of reconciliation with his wife. As a former police inspector, Winston has intelligence and logic on his side. But it will take the strength of Poppy's love for him to defeat the forces that threaten to tear them apart.

Now check out the deleted scene. It's a sexy one!! Don't say I never gave you anything.

Poppy’s straight brow snapped together in annoyance. Her face, no longer framed by that mass of red, appeared stronger now, the clean lines of her jaw and nose highlighted, and yet she also looked strangely delicate and exposed. Without warning, his cock stirred.

“Maim myself?” she said. “It is only hair, Win. It will grow back.” Again she shrugged. “Though speaking practically, it feels rather nice to be free of it. Lighter.”

“Bollocks!” His fist, still clutching her shorn hair, slammed into the sink and a satisfying jolt of pain went up his arm. “Bollocks to this, Poppy!”

Red washed over her cheeks as she strode forward. “Well there is no need to shout.”

He raked back his own hair for fear of hitting something. “Why the suit?” It was an inane question in the scheme of things but he could not move past the sight.

“I can move better in trousers. Besides,” her full lower lip thrust out, “I hate those bleeding corsets. Especially now.”

It dawned on him then, her words and what she was trying to say. “You think to fight Isley?” He blinked. “When you are with child.”

Poppy scowled. “Have you a better plan? For I am not giving him my child. Nor my brother. Logic demands that I destroy him before he destroys you.”

“I will fight him.”

She actually laughed. “No.”

“No? Have you—“ Blood rushed to his head, making his ears ring. “You’ve lost your bloody mind if you think I’m going along with this.”

“You act is if I am offering a choice.” Poppy crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. Jesus, but she looked like a young man now. She’d pass just fine, with her strong features and short hair. Her long, thin body would…

“Where the fuck are your breasts!” His head spun with horror. He could see any sign of them where her -his- white work shirt peaked out over the loose tweed waistcoat.

Poppy stopped short and frowned at him for one agonizing moment. A moment in which he thought… He didn’t know what he thought. Her bloody, buggering hair was gone! But then she was laughing. A rare full-bellied laugh.

“What?” she said though her laughter. “Did you think I cut them off too?” Her white throat arched as she tilted her head back and laughed with abandon.

He didn’t remember moving, but in the space of a breath, his hands were on her shoulders, clutching hard. Her back met with the wall and he followed, shoving a thigh between her, pressing his hips into that snug little juncture. “Where are they?” It was an irrational question, but rationality had long since left the room.

She gaped up at him, her soft, pink lips a little circle of surprise. He stamped his lips upon hers, swallowing down her protest, opening up her mouth with his, and he was lost. Lust roared in his ears, and turned his blood to fire. He groaned into her mouth. Here was the sustenance he craved. She kissed him back, as starved and furious as he was, and he shuddered, his hand holding her jaw to keep her still. “Where? Where, Poppy? Where?”

Buttons scattered, pinging like hail onto the tiles, as he wrenched the shirt apart and saw wide binding that held down her breasts. Unconscionable. One hard tug and her pert, white breasts sprung free. Pink, puffy nipples taunted him. On a growl, he bent down, caught one smooth tip his his mouth and sucked hard. She gasped and arched off the wall, her fingers twining into his hair. He sucked harder, opening his mouth to pull more of her breast into it. The nipple stiffened under his tongue. Driving him mad. He drew back and licked it, reveling in the way it moved this way and that under his ministrations.

God her taste. He’d never get enough. Nor have his fill. His free hand found the other poor, abused little breast. He fondled it, let her nipple slide

between his fingers before he pinched and pulled it with firm tugs.

“More, Win. More.” Poppy writhed against the motion, her hips slamming against his, one long leg curling around his waist. It was all the invitation he needed. More buttons flew to the floor as he ripped at her trousers. The oddness of it, undressing a man and finding only soft woman beneath made his head spin. Then he saw a flash of copper curls and didn’t think anymore.

Wet heat slipped and slid against his fingers. Cool air hit the backs of his thighs. Had she opened his trousers, or had he? He didn’t bloody care. Lust, anger, desperation was a boiling stew within him, driving him dizzy, and urging him faster. His mouth found her pulse, and his teeth tested that fragrant skin. No more silken hair to tickle his nose, just strong, smooth skin. Damn her. Damn her for changing everything. He grabbed firm thighs and lifted her high as her cool hand curled around him and tugged with impudence. Almost there, love. And then he was, sinking in deep and fast, her wetness surrounding him. He groaned against her throat. Tight. So damn tight, it almost hurt to drive into her. That kick to his gut, that sweet pain, it happened every time he took her. Every damn time.

Sliding his arms beneath her knees, he held spread her wider. “This,” he growled, looking down at where they were joined. “This is why I live.” Out he pulled, and then in. A long glide into her silken clasp. Her lashes fluttered as she watched him move, watched his cock sink into her. Her lips parted on a pant. He licked them, his harsh breath mingling with hers. “To adore you this way. It is everything.”

“Win.” Her lips clung to his. “Please…”

“No.” He leaned back, thrust into her. “Watch us together, Poppy.” Never before had he been so aware of his own flesh, the tension along his back, the way his arse clenched with every hard thrust, her smooth legs wrapped around him, and her heat. That tight heat that held him so well.

“Watch us,” he gasped. “And then tell me you mean to go it alone.”

Eyes drifting closed, she shivered, and stretched her arms over her head so that her tantalizing breasts tilted upward like an offering. He took it, grasping hold of one sweet handful and pinching her pink nipple. Hard. A sharp tug that he knew would shatter her. Poppy’s long, lean body shuddered, and a flush of red rose from her bouncing breasts as she keened.

That sound and the way her straight brows snapped together even as her mouth parted with the cry sent him over the edge. He slammed into her, thrusting her body up the wall, as his arm around her back absorbed the impact. Again. Again.

His knees ached, his thighs burning as he pumped into her, the wet sounds of flesh sliding against flesh mingling with their grunts. He couldn’t look at her, not yet, but kissed her neck, devouring it as if it might imprint her taste in his mouth when they would eventually part. She clutched his shoulders, her fingers digging into his muscles with a pinch of pain. Heat shot along his back and up his bollocks. The press of her body against his, and the tight clench of her sex spurred him on. Faster, harder. Every muscle in his body tense as the heat flared higher. Close. Not yet. Not yet.

He shifted, angled his hips until his cock grazed against the little nub of her sex, just the way she liked it.

“Oh, hell.” She gasped, her body arching like a bow as she came. And came. Her teeth sank into his shoulder as she gripped him, her sex drawing his cock further in. Win groaned against the onslaught. His eyes squeezed tight as the pressure built in a white hot wave. He shouted his release and ground against her, pleasure and pain becoming one.

They stayed like that, panting and slick with sweat, until his knees gave out and he crumpled to the floor, taking her with him. Her cool cheek pressed against the constant ache of his scars as they held each other with weak and shaking limbs. Her beautiful breasts were flushed and damp and trembling. Without thought, he touched one pink peak, grazing it with the tip of his finger, and a base thrill went through him when she whimpered and lifted herself to follow his retreating finger. As weakened as he was, his cock still twitched, struggling to rise to the occasion, wanting another go. He clasped the back of her neck and drew her closer. “Poppy.” He didn’t know what to do to make things right.

But she did. Her lips settled on the thick scar across his throat. “Just hold me, Win.”

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