Reid's Deliverance

Can their bond withstand the test of time?

Lauren isn’t looking for love when she spends a scintillating night with Reid, the sexy keyboardist of Thane’s Redemption. While their passion may be off the charts, her trust issues—and Reid’s secret life as a time-traveling covert agent—makes any chance for a relationship impossible.

When operatives involved in a mysterious project begin dying, Reid defies orders and travels alone into the future to find the cause. But when things go dangerously awry, it takes all of his strength to get himself back to safety—and directly onto Lauren’s doorstep. While neither of them remembers their night of passion, their intense connection leads Lauren to help him. But as Reid’s memories reignite, will he be forced to sacrifice everything to finish his mission—including the woman he loves?

“Super spicy sex scenes…will leave you begging for more!”

--
Devilishly Delicious Book Reviews

Visit us at
www.kensingtonbooks.com

The Song series

Thane’s Redemption

Reid’s Deliverance

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

The Song series

Nina Crespo

LYRICAL PRESS

Kensington Publishing Corp.

www.kensingtonbooks.com

Lyrical Press books are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

Copyright © 2015 by Nina Crespo

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund- raising, and educational or institutional use.

To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Special Sales Manager:

Kensington Publishing Corp.

119 West 40th Street

New York, NY 10018

Attn. Special Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

LYRICAL PRESS Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.

First Electronic Edition: March 2016

eISBN-13: 978-1-60183-542-0

eISBN-10: 1-60183-542-6

First Print Edition: March 2016

ISBN-13: 978-1-60183-543-7

ISBN-10: 1-60183-543-4

Printed in the United States of America

To Life, Breath & Inspiration

Thank you to my own superhero for all of your patience and unfailing love and encouragement. To my editor Penny Barber and the rest of the team Kensington Publishing Corp/Lyrical – thank you for your guidance and support. Cathy—as always you rock! Maria—you’re the best ever! Love and thanks to "Team Nina" and my readers.

The lead singer of Thane’s Redemption jumped on stage. He grabbed the mic and blended his rich baritone with the edgy rock beat.

Waves of sound filled The Song, and the packed audience of mostly women cheered.

Up-tempo guitar riffs and pounding drums brought them to their feet.

Lauren Blake danced. Audible sweetness and the dark-haired keyboardist intoxicated her.

Muscles flexed underneath the clean-cut hottie’s navy button-down shirt. The rock and thrust of his jean-clad hips inspired fantasies of holding on for a sinful ride. As he played a rapidly building chord, he scanned the crowd. His gaze lingered where she jammed with Ari and Celine.

Her heart rate ticked up.

Silly, he’s not staring at you
. Interacting with the crowd was part of the gig.

The band launched into a cover of a popular song.

Lauren plopped down in the curved, faux leather chair at the table.

Celine sang the lyrics along with the band. Dark hair skimmed her shoulders as she shimmied to the beat. Finally, she was enjoying life.

As Lauren fanned her face, she winked at Ari.

Plum-colored lip tint complimented her friend’s light brown complexion along with her smile. “Mission accomplished.”

Celine had given them hell about going out tonight. Still, they’d zipped her into a killer red dress and dragged her from the apartment. Her having a good time now made up for the massive attitude. Not to mention, she’d snagged Thane. The tall lead singer had a silky-looking mane most women would die for; a muscular build, and, from what she’d heard, mesmerizing golden eyes. He was the sexiest guy in the band. Well, one of the sexiest.

Thane sat down on a stool center stage with an acoustic guitar. He dedicated the next song to Celine.

The sensual rumba-styled melody captivated most of the women in the audience. The rest shot eye-daggers in their direction. Lauren flipped her hair and gave the haters pointed looks. Please. They needed to get over it. Celine more than deserved the attention.

Lauren immersed herself in the lyrics. They were an invitation for one night of passion. The chords hummed through her veins. Images drifted in of the keyboardist wrapping her in his arms. His caresses floating over her. His wicked, tantalizing kisses weakening her knees.

Prickles gathered along her spine.

He looked her direction.

Her face grew hot, and she squeezed her thighs together, quelling the ache. It was dumb to entertain the illusion, especially with her good-man indicator on the fritz. Hadn’t she learned her lesson after consistently picking out so many duds? Her handy hell-no list did ferret out the worst. Mama’s boys and cable sports junkies. In-between-jobs types who wanted to use her as their personal ATM. Commitment-phobes who didn’t “do” relationships. Courtesy of the last loser, double hell-no to self-centered pricks. No amount of talented cock could make up for pure asshole. And, of course, no heroes committed to protecting the world—military, police, not even those cute firemen at the local station. Nothing against dedication, but the sacrifices they made for their jobs ruined relationships.

The ballad ended to thunderous applause.

At the end of the show, a server dropped an envelope next to Celine. She opened it and pulled out three blue tickets.

Ari’s brown eyes widened. Lights from the stage shimmered in her metallic top as she wiggled in her seat. “We’re going to the after-party!”

“It’s late. I need to go home.” Celine shot up from her chair and rushed out.

Bright fluorescents flickered, erasing the muted glow of bar neon. The Song transformed into gray walls, dark floors, and steel. The lingering crowd skirted past round, red tables littered with used glasses and crumpled napkins.

“Shit.” Ari swept dark bangs into her short cut. “I thought we’d made a breakthrough. You know what this means—we have to convince her to go to the party and hook up with Thane.”

“Nope.” Lauren finished the last of her tangy-sweet mangotini. “You heard her snap my head off earlier when I suggested she talk to that guy at the bar. I’m done with matchmaking. It’s your turn.”

Ari sighed and grabbed her purse. “Wish me luck.”

Lauren stood and picked up her green clutch. No need to hurry. She had the keys. Hopefully, World War III would end before she got to the car.

Laughter came from the stage.

The members of the band were breaking down their equipment and talking with fans. A group of women surrounded the keyboardist. One of them wore a tiara and a “Finally 21!” sash over a form-fitting, pink minidress. He draped an arm around her and posed for pictures. The redhead practically swooned. Who could blame her? Six years ago, at that age, she would have done the same. His wide shoulders were made for holding onto, and the way he filled out those jeans screamed hot body. Not to mention that orgasm-inducing grin. He turned up the wattage on said grin and chatted with his admirers. At least a ten-year age difference existed between him and the birthday girl. The way he flirted with her and her friends, maybe he preferred to date younger.

His eyes locked on Lauren. Even from a distance, she could see his gaze roaming over her from head to toe and back up again. He smiled and her short, white dress grew as warm as a parka. Caught staring, could she look more pathetic?

Steps from the exit, a drunken guy staggered into her path. An abrupt halt left her teetering in her stilettos. A strong, masculine arm wrapped around her waist. Lauren’s heart jumped.

“Careful.” His breath ruffled the hair near her cheek. “I’ve got you.”

People squeezed by to get to the door.

She didn’t budge. The keyboardist’s clean, woodsy scent surrounded her as she leaned against hard chest muscle.

“Time to move. We’re about to get trampled.” He rested his hand on her back. Confidence and his long stride sliced through the crowd. They walked out and moved to the side of the door.

Too much space allowed cool night air to steal his warmth. Exhaust fumes from departing cars snatched away his appealing scent.

More people piled out of the club.

He turned his back to the door. Lights near the awning illuminated the clean-shaven lines of his face. “I’m Reid, by the way.”

Intense hazel eyes robbed her of speech. Her, lost for words? That never happened. “I’m Lauren.”

“Nice to meet you, Lauren. So, are you coming to the after-party?”

Across the parking lot, Ari begged and stamped her feet. Inches shorter than Celine, she resembled a child throwing a tantrum.

“My friend Celine is tired. She wants to go home.”

Reid stepped into her space. Close enough for warmth and deliciousness to return and kick up her heart rate. “What do you want?”

To stay out of trouble. After three failed relationships in five months, she was taking a break from men, dating, the whole shebang. “It isn’t about what I want.”

“It should be.”

“When we’re out together, if one of us doesn’t want to do something, we all take a pass.”

He flattened her hand to his chest. “You’re breaking my heart. I can’t believe fate brought you to me tonight just to take you away.”

With each hard, steady thump against her palm, her brain circuits sizzled. Lush warmth spread through her breasts and the lace cups of her bra grew uncomfortably small. It was too easy to imagine him inching up her dress, stroking gently, pressing firmly. She tugged her hand from his grasp. “Sorry. Girl-code solidarity trumps fate.”

Ari squealed and happy-danced. She must’ve worn Celine down, but that wasn’t surprising. No one refused Ari. Most gave up because they couldn’t get past her unique logic.

Reid intertwined their fingers and flashed a grin. “Looks like fate is working in my favor after all.”

* * * *

Lauren plucked strawberries from the tray on the table and put them on a plate. In the middle of the upstairs room, Reid played a song on the baby grand. The fluid chords wove into the laughter and conversations.

Muscle on top of muscle. That’s what it had felt like when she’d touched him. And the remarkable-looking bulge pressed against his zipper was the perfect match to the way he’d moved his hips on stage.

Ari joined her at the buffet. “I can’t believe Thane hasn’t shown up yet.”

“I can’t either.” Lauren dropped mini tacos on her plate. “He didn’t come across as a jerk.” And neither had Reid.