Dark Hart

Pediatrician Dr. Pasha Young likes her routine, busy life. Her job is meaningful and she’s good at it. But when Heath enters her world—all long blond hair and midnight blue eyes—she realizes everything she’s been missing.

Former special operative and now security specialist, Heath Hart has never met a woman quite like Pasha. She helped his family when they needed it the most. Their attraction was instant. Electric. She’s also okay with his no-strings rule. Because he can’t go back down the love rabbit hole. Not after what happened last time. She understands what drives him. She was there when Dakota Creed got away, and Heath’s need to find Creed and end his reign of terror is all-consuming. Nobody else deserves to get hurt, and Heath will stop at nothing to finish the job once and for all.

But what happens when the hunter becomes the hunted? The devil he’s chasing is now chasing him—chasing them. When Heath’s need to find Creed turns into an obsession, and he begins to slip into the dark, can Pasha muster the strength to pull him back into the light in time? Or will he give himself over to the chase, causing her to lose her heart, and her Hart, to the darkness once and for all?

“Spread those legs, baby. I’m starving!” Heath called out into Pasha’s house as he closed the door behind him and dropped his bag in the foyer. He peeled his shirt over his head and started to unbuckle his belt and unfasten his jeans. He continued to wander through her house to the kitchen, which was where the only noise in the whole place was coming from. “You’re going to be my ketchup bottle tonight, Pash. Gonna flip you over and pound you from the back until you squirt.”

Seriously? Not even a squeak or a giggle of a reaction to that? Normally, his dirty talk and one-liners made her at the very least groan as she rolled her eyes and shook her head. On the outside she might be playing that she didn’t like it when he talked that way, but when he slid his fingers into her panties, the truth came out.

“Baby? Where you at? You already naked? Don’t tell me you started without me.”

He glanced into her dark bedroom, but no figure lay on the bed with her hand between her legs.

Stroking the heel of his palm over his jeans and his erection, he continued talking. “Been hard for the last thirty minutes, Pash. Two weeks is too fucking long.” He stepped into the kitchen, his jeans unbuttoned, zipper almost all the way down, only to find a woman who looked a fuck-ton like Pasha, only half her damn age, staring at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

“Shit!” Pasha’s voice behind him had him spinning around and zipping up his pants. She was standing in the jamb of the sliding-glass door that led out to her patio, and he could smell barbecue. His belly rumbled.

He grabbed an oven mitt from the counter and held it in front of his crotch.

“Didn’t you get my text?” she asked. Her brown eyes with flecks of gold were in full-on panic mode. He also didn’t miss that her eye color was exactly the same as that of her younger doppelganger.

He shook his head, causing his blond hair to swish across his shoulders, his gaze bouncing between the two women.

The younger one now appeared amused and had her phone out. She snapped a few pictures of Heath. “Are you and my sister boning?” she asked. “Pash, he’s fucking hot.”

Sister?

He grabbed his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, careful to keep the oven mitt in front of his slowly deflating junk, and checked his messages. Nothing from Pasha since last night—which had been a pic of her tits, and oh, what perfect tits they were.

She had her own phone out now. “Shit. I didn’t hit send.” Her head rolled on her shoulders. “Rayma’s been getting into trouble back home in Baltimore, so my parents thought it would be a good idea to ship her out to me for a week or two so I could knock some sense into her. They didn’t, however, consult with me first, and Little Miss Trouble here just arrived on my doorstep two hours ago.”

Rayma grinned. “Like a baby at a fire station.”

Shit.

His cock seemed to have softened enough that he was able to pull the oven mitt away from his crotch and refasten his jeans and belt. He also tugged his shirt back on, thanking God he hadn’t tossed it aside into the entranceway.

“Oh, don’t do that,” Rayma protested. “I quite liked the view. What is that, an eight-pack?” Her smile was sassy, and she bobbed her brows. “Never seen arms that big either. Bet you could bench-press a Civic.”

Pasha flicked her sister in the back of the head as she wandered toward Heath, setting barbecue tongs down on the counter before she came to stand in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

He bent his head and kissed the tip of her nose. “No need to apologize, babe. A bit awkward on my part, but family comes first, so I get it. I can head out and leave you two to your sisterly bonding if you want me—”

“No!” Pasha nearly shouted.

That had him grinning.

She loved his cock and wasn’t shy about expressing it. He knew she’d be pissed right the fuck off if she had to wait another two weeks for it because of her bratty sister and her incommunicative parents.

“We’ll just adjust our weekend plans.”

“Yeah, less boning on every surface of the house and more humping behind closed doors,” Rayma teased.

Pash shot her sister a glare over her shoulder. “Rayma!”

Rayma adopted the perfect look of innocence, but it was plain as day that this cat devoured all the canaries. “What? He’s the one who came in here telling you he was starving and to spread your legs.”

Heath’s cheeks grew warm. He snorted, and a smirk tugged at his lips.

He wasn’t a man who embarrassed easily. He preferred to just roll with the punches, but hearing it from Pasha’s little sister’s mouth had him blushing nonetheless.

Pasha’s head swiveled back around, and her gaze landed on him. She elbowed him. “Not funny.” She faced the counter and started tossing cut cubes of vegetables into the salad bowl.

“It is a little bit funny,” he admitted, wrapping his arms around her from behind and nipping her neck. “And she is right,” he whispered. “I was looking forward to eating you on the kitchen table like a buffet.”

“I heard that,” Rayma said with another big smile.

Fuck, it was scary how much the sisters looked alike. Right down to the cute button nose. The freckles, the eyes, the heart-shaped face, even the caramel-colored hair with thick blonde streaks. He knew their mother was eastern European and their father American, and if Pasha and Rayma were any indication, Mr. and Mrs. Young had good genes. He could only imagine that the other three sisters were equally as beautiful as the two in front of him. The only difference between these two women—besides their ages—seemed to be that Rayma had thinner lips, while Pasha’s were plump and full and looked so fucking good wrapped around his cock like it was a Popsicle.

“We need more wine if we’re going to go through with this weekend,” Pasha said, tipping her head up so her crown knocked his chest and doing her best to look at him. The only reason this position even remotely worked was because he was so much taller than she was. “Because you’re sure as hell not leaving, and my sister just got here.”

Snorting, he spun her around so she was now facing him and locked between his body and the counter. His grin widened as she bit her lip, and her eyes unashamedly drifted down between them. She pressed her pelvis against his and licked her lips.

He groaned. “I’m gonna be a snowstorm for you tonight.”

She lifted one brow. “Huh?”

“Give you seven to nine inches and make it mildly inconvenient for you to walk.” His mouth split into a big grin, and he waggled his brows at her.

Pasha’s mouth dropped open and her eyes went buggy. But after a brief moment of shock, she shook her head, and the smile came out.

“You’re like a really good movie,” he went on, enjoying the color that filled her cheeks.

“I’m not sure I even want to ask …”

“When you’re turned on, you can be sure I’ll sit down and stay until you finish.”

Her eyes rolled. “Oh, dear lord.”