*~*Sinful Rewards Book One by Cynthia Sax Blog Tour – Excerpt & Giveaway*~*

Genre:   Contemporary Erotic Romance

I stand on the sidewalk and watch as the limo is sucked into the constant stream of traffic. Does he realize I’m gone? I scowl.

“Do you want me to have him killed?” a man rumbles.

I squeak, startled, and I pivot on my high heels. A man in a black leather jacket and faded blue jeans sits on the shiniest, prettiest motorcycle I’ve ever seen. Silver talons grab the metal axles. Finely drawn birds decorate the blue gas tank.

“Sorry. I didn’t see you there,” I mumble, embarrassed. Although his tattoos are covered, I recognize his square chin, the stubble on his tanned cheeks, the broadness of his shoulders, the strength in his powerful body. It’s the tattooed man from three eleven north, the hunk I saw naked this morning.

“I’m surprised you didn’t see me, sweetheart. I’m easy to spot.” He flashes me an adorably lopsided smile and my heart skips a beat. Up close, he appears even bigger than he was this morning, the man built solid, like the side of a mountain.

A fit, sexy mountain. I allow my gaze to linger on his impressive physique. The body parts I can’t see, my mind remembers, my pussy moistening and my knees weakening. I want him. Desperately. I clutch my purse, holding on to my self-control with everything I have.

The strap snaps. The purse drops to the sidewalk, the contents spilling. I watch, mortified, as a gold tube of lipstick rolls toward the tattooed hunk. He nudges the sidestand into place, stretches out his right leg, and stops the lipstick’s escape with one big black boot.

“You’re a hot mess, aren’t you?” He bends over and retrieves the wayward tube.

“I’m not normally a mess.” I stuff my brush, wallet, passcard, and, oh my God, my emergency tampon back into my purse. My hands tremble. “The strap broke and—”

“You have black ink all over your pretty white shirt.” He skims the unopened tube of lipstick down my cotton-covered side, leaving a trail of sweet sensation. My nipples tighten and my spine arches, my body instinctually responding to his touch.

“Give me that.” I snatch the lipstick from him, unnerved by my reaction, and I glance down at my blouse. “Oh, God.” Black ink is smudged over the fabric. “You’re right.” My heart sinks. Has it been there all day? Since I doctored my purse this morning? Nicolas, my boss, everyone must have seen it, and no one said anything, no one except my badass biker. “I am a mess.” My voice wobbles.

“You’re a hot mess,” he corrects. “There’s a big difference between the two.”