BLOG TOUR - In The Firelight by Sibylla Matilde

TITLE: In The Firelight

AUTHOR: Sibylla Matilde

***** Mature Content, Sexual Situations, Adult Situations, Strong Language *****

She found him on a snowy night. He sparked her desires and inflamed her dreams. 

Independent and feisty, Shea Madison has a tussle on her hands. Living in and loving her quiet little corner of Montana, she’s fiercely determined to fight a real estate developer trying to turn her quaint little mountain town into a touristy ski resort. So, when an outsider shows up to study the effects on the area, she instantly attempts to sway his impression… even if it means a little harmless flirting with the enticing visitor. 

Rhys Weland’s charade has one purpose—to bring the locals around to the idea of the resort, primarily the ringleader, Ms. Shea Madison. Embroiled in his deception, he’s stunned by the feelings she draws from deep inside him. Her integrity and sincerity quickly have him second-guessing his twisted morals. Her spirit arouses his soul. Her sensuality steals his breath. 

In the dark of the night, in the warmth of the fire, the passion smoldering between them combusts. But just when it all seems to make sense, one small stubborn mistake shreds the fragile bond between them. Will an impetuous act reignite their flame, or will their love vanish like sparks in the air?

In the beginning Rhys is an obnoxious, man whore, who has no respect or consideration for the women he 'beds'.  I use the term 'beds' VERY loosely!  He will take them anywhere, anytime and to hell with the risks.  Mind you, it's not really his fault, he is drop dead gorgeous!

His boss, McHugh, exploits this side of Rhys and he is fine with that.  Until, that is, he has to go back to Montana, and charm one of the locals who are trying to put a stop to McHugh's newest venture.  Rhys is a cold hearted business man.  He has distanced himself from everything and everyone.  His Dad gets an obligitory phone call every once in a while and a visit even less.  McHugh is the type of character that has no conscience and to hell with anyone who gets in his way.  If he has to, he will bulldoze a clear path to his goal, whether they stand in his way or not.  He is a slime ball.

In the past Rhys didn't mind doing the 'dirty' on/with anyone, if it got them what they wanted.  But that was before he met Shea, and Shea is what is standing between McHugh and his newest ski resort.  What starts out as Rhys hoping to convince her, by any means necessary, soon transpires into something else.  Something that Rhys isn't used to.  Something with feelings...

The story starts out slow, but once it picks up pace, holy smoking kindles!  Rhys knows he is playing with fire and it will only be a matter of time before Shea finds out his real reason for coming to town is.  The sex scenes were hot, like really super H.O.T.  Good god, I think the phrase 'anytime, anywhere' should be their mantra!!  Unfortunately though, all good things come to an end.  It was inevitable, but none the less heartbreaking when it happened.  I wanted to punch, kick and scream.  It is true what they say, Karma is a Bitch and thankfully Karma was on top form that day!

I loved this story from beginning to end.  It was sexy, funny, filthy, emotional, and panty melting!

My Rating

Each blog on this tour has a teaser pic. In each one of those teaser pics there is a letter that is different. There are four pictures in total that spell a four letter word. Figure out that word and type in the answer in the Giveaway/Rafflecopter. To get a tour schedule for the day go to https://www.facebook.com/subclubbers each day for the blog tour stops. The Prize? A signed Paperback from Sibylla Matilde herself.

Excerpt from Chapter 9 – The Visitor

The crunch of tires in the deep snow outside could faintly be heard through the heavy cabin walls, and she followed Wolfie to see who was there.

Rhys.

Shit.

Yay.

No, shit.

Really… shit.

Her play of emotions duked it out as she tried to decide just how she should feel about him being there.  Wondering why he was there. Angry at the confusion that he wrought. A little excited by the thought of his splendid manliness standing in her little cabin again.

In the clear, bright moonlight that shone over the white terrain, she saw him climb out of his rental Jeep. A moment later, he climbed the steps to her porch, and a quick heavy knock sounded at her door. Shea’s first instinct was to pretend she wasn’t home. But, really… her truck was there. Her lights were on. He’d know that was bullshit in a second.

Crossing over to the door, she quickly looked down at her worn, faded jeans and light, clingy beige sweater. At least she had showered today, although she wasn’t terribly presentable with her hair up in a messy bun. Not that she cared what he thought, though.

Really… she didn’t.

Shea ripped the clip out that held her hair up off her neck, and the still slightly damp tendrils fell around her shoulders. She dropped it on the radio by the entrance and reached for the doorknob, mentally preparing herself to be cool. But as she opened the door, she almost moaned at the sight of him before her.

Fuck. Why did he have to be so God-damned good-looking? In the last two days, his stubble had grown thicker along his jaw, and he looked really rugged and… hot. Her body craved him, and the desire made her feel angry and defensive, Shea narrowed her eyes at him.

“Rhys, what the fuck are you doing here?” she asked.

He smiled at her less-than-enthusiastic greeting. “I see absence does not make the heart grow fonder after all, huh, sweetheart?” he asked as Wolfie nuzzled his hand, apparently not terribly upset by their company.

“I’m sorry, I just… I’m not used to having people just show up anyway, and for you to… It’s just a bit of a surprise, that’s all.”

“Can I come in?” he asked. “I just wanted to check on you, to see how you were doing because I hadn’t seen you in town for a few days.”

Shea stood back, opening the door wider to allow him in. He crossed through the doorway and unbuttoned his coat. Shea held the door open for another moment as Wolfie peered into the night before stepping out to explore. Shea shut the door behind him.

“I’ve been working,” she said quietly. “Trying to get caught up after all the excitement earlier this week, you know.”

“Excitement?” Rhys laughed as he pulled the coat from his wide, broad, beautiful… Stop it, Shea!  “What kind of excitement? Oh, wait, you mean having a stranger in town,” he chuckled.

“Rhys, Snowcreek is kind of the end of the road. We don’t really get people here that are passing through.” Shea took his coat and hung it on a hook by the door as Rhys bent down to remove his snow-caked boots.  “So, yeah, someone new just shows up out of the blue, and it generates a little discussion. And the meeting the other day and everything, it just all got me completely off schedule with my transcription.”

Rhys kicked off his last boot and stood, walking over to her. Looming above her, actually, causing a thrill to run down her center. “Do you want me to leave? Or did you get caught up?” he asked, the dim light of the room casting slight shadows that played up the angle of his cheek.

Shea should tell him to leave. She should tell him she was behind and had to work.

But she didn’t. Instead, she ducked around him, stepping in a clump of melting snow that completely soaked through her socks and chilled her skin. Goosebumps rose all over her body. Every sensation seemed to be amplified when he was around.

“No,” she said, kicking herself the whole time, “I actually just kinda typed nonstop for the last day or two, and I’ve made up ground. I’ve even gotten a little ahead.” She crossed over to the fireplace and sat on the edge of the couch closest to its heat. She reached down and pulled off the cold, wet socks. Using every acting skill she possessed, she did her best to appear unbothered by his appearance. “So, what’s up? Why the impromptu visit?” She laid the wet socks on the edge of the hearth to dry and turned to watch Rhys casually amble to the other end of the couch and sprawl out to soak in the heat of the fire.

“Just what I said. I hadn’t seen you in a few days. I was just wondering how you were doing. I’ve been, um… thinking about you.”

Her eyes flew up to meet his, caught in the blue depths. He was making it somewhat difficult, with his ever-so-soft-looking thermal shirt, ruffled and messy hair, shadowy unshaved jaw. And there was an intensity in his eyes as he looked over at her that instantly made her drop her gaze to where her hands sat in her lap. She instantly noticed that the v-neck to her sweater had dipped low, showing off a bit more of the curves of her breasts than she had realized.

Her eyes darted back to his and saw the heat reflecting from the fire dancing off them, giving him a devilish appearance. Yes, she most definitely should have told him she was busy… she should have made him leave.  Without a doubt.

Alternative POV - Rhys

The Fire (Rhys POV)

A crackle from the fireplace pulled Rhys from a deep sleep, and he immediately had the feeling that something was missing. All around him he could smell her… smell them. But his arms were empty.

He opened his eyes to see Shea sitting on the hearth staring seriously into the flames. The deep russet tones of her hair haloed by the golden light. She had a blanket tucked up under her arms, and the warmth of the blaze glowed on her flawless skin.

Fuck… 

She was beautiful.

She was amazing.

And she was going to hate his guts.

He leaned up slightly, bracing himself on his elbow. The sounds of his movement drew her attention, and she slowly turned her head towards him. Her teeth caught her lower lip as she gave him a troubled look. For a moment, they just were motionless, unspeaking. After all the strength she had exuded, all the bravado she had displayed, she suddenly looked fragile. She looked vulnerable.

A fierce protectiveness arose in him. But what did he want to protect her from? Himself? After all, really, he was her biggest threat. A tight twist self-reproach ripped through his chest, and gut felt heavy, like he had swallowed a stone.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This regret was unfathomable. Unsettling.

And a little voice in the back of his mind kept whispering, Tell her…

Rhys wrapped the blanket around his hips and stood, walking over to her at the hearth. His heart pounded apprehensively. But, he knew he had to do this. He wasn’t sure why, but he had to come clean.

It was surreal, this need to confess. Never had there been the slightest inclination in the past. Not once had his conscience weighed heavily on his heart. He sat behind her on the hearth, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair, breathing deeply to take her sweet scent into his lungs. Eyes closed, he could see her coming apart beneath him. He could feel her tremble and shake, hear her soft cries as she blissfully shattered around him. As he poured himself into her with a mind-numbing release.

Tell her…

“We really need to talk,” he began.

Shea whispered back quickly. “I don’t want to.”

“Shea,” Rhys murmured against her neck, “something happened here tonight. This makes things complicated. You have no idea how complicated.” Really… God, she was going to hate him.

“No,” she continued to stare ahead, not looking at him, but resting her head more firmly on his shoulder. “This is just… this. Tonight. It’s not forever. It’s not life-altering. You’re not staying.”

Rhys frowned down at her. “Shea—”

“No, Rhys,” she turned slightly to face him. “Tonight was beautiful, but I’m a realist. I know this isn’t happily ever after. I don’t believe in fairy tales. Tomorrow, we just go back to… whatever. In a few days, you leave. It’s done. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Whatever? What the fuck? The gnawing ache inside him grew. The torment of wanting her to know the truth, but not wanting her to hate him. The desire for her to be strong and not be hurt by him, yet wanting to know that this had meant something to her… because these emotions swirling through him were bewildering. “Shea, sweetheart, there’s something more going on here.”

“But there’s not.” Her voice was soft, yet flat. Quiet. Her expression was serene and cool. “There can’t be. You know that. You’re not staying here. You’re here to do your report, and then you’ll be gone.”

That fucking report. The lie that would ruin her town. Rhys ducked his gaze.

Yeah, about that report. 

“But that’s—” he murmured.

Shea’s fingers pressed against his lips, hushing his argument. “Rhys, all I want is right now. I want to sit here with you in the firelight. I want you to kiss me and to hold me.” She lowered her voice and whispered, “I want you to fuck me.”

Oh fuck.

What the fuck was wrong with him? This was tearing him to pieces. Damn, he wanted her. He’d have to be dead not to. But, while this all felt so right, everything suddenly felt so incredibly wrong. His part in all this was shit. She had let him inside her, she had trusted him and made him come so fucking hard.

But she would have never touched him had she known the truth.

He shook his head. “Shea—” he uttered through the heavy weight in his chest.

Abruptly, Shea turned and rose up before him, tossing her blanket to the floor. The warm firelight made her bare skin glow, threw shadows across her naked body. The desire became painful as he felt her hands tangle into his hair. Her vulnerability disappeared, and she was suddenly all powerful before him, eradicating the guilt and the regret and replacing them with passion and need.

“Fuck me, Rhys,” she whispered, and her lips crashed down on his. She wrapped her arms around him as her tongue darted into his mouth, sweeping across his.

His hands lifted to her hips. The slightest fragment of his mind still screamed. Tell her. But with her soft, smooth skin beneath his hands, with her warmth and her fevered kiss, she quieted the last shred of his conscience. Her hands sifted through his hair and came forward to cup his jaw, scraping her nails across the unshaven angles, and he surrendered himself to her exquisite touch with a shuddering moan.

Shea lifted her head. “Please, Rhys,” he heard her softly moan.  “I ache. I burn. Don’t talk. Please… just taste me.”

Her hands sifted back through his hair, pulling lightly to guide his lips to her delicious breasts. He ravenously sucked and nipped, feeling a tremulous shiver run through her at his touch. Shea cried out as he drew deeply, massaging one breast with a rough, callused hand as he devoured the other, then switched. She was so soft, so sweet. Her skin was heavenly in his mouth. Her moans made him throb painfully with a need to lose himself again inside her.

Suddenly, she pulled away. He began to reach for her, but she slipped down to her knees before him and tugged at the blanket he had wrapped around his hips. For a second, she stared at his length, and his heart stopped as she licked her lips and smiled up at him with a heated gaze. She lowered her head and her tongue darted out to sweep along the head of his cock. Her breath caressed him before she licked again, her lips closing over the tip and suckling firmly.

Rhys was pretty sure he had found Elysium.

He watched her as her tongue started at the base and laved up his length, her hand bracing him firmly. Again, her soft, hot lips closed over him and took him to the back of her throat.

“Oh fuck, Shea…” Rhys groaned.

Fuck. Seriously, fuck.

Heaven.

“Your mouth…” he could barely form words.  “Your hot little tongue. Oh fucking hell. That’s… Oh…”

She ran her tongue along him again, exploring the smooth, hard shaft with precision, intensely savoring the taste of him… of herself on him. She slipped her hand across her breast and down her stomach to her own sex as she drew him deep down her throat again. He watched her fingers delve into her wet depths and her moan vibrated against the head of his dick, causing him to nearly detonate right then and there.

“Oh, yeah, sweetheart… play with your pussy,” Rhys whispered.

“Do you like that?” Her breath was hot as she whispered against him, over him, around him. “Do you like when I touch myself there?”

“Jesus… fuck… fucking hot.”

Her eyes burned into his as she looked up at him. Of their own accord, his hips began to move slightly and he began to fuck her mouth as she brought herself towards blissful release. Suddenly, she was shaking, licking, moaning against him. Rhys lifted her slightly, pulling her away from his aching dick. He roughly guided her back onto the blanket and knelt before her, pulling her towards him as he spread her legs wide, displaying her glistening pussy in the firelight. A second of hesitation as his fingers swept through her slick wetness. His other hand wrapped around his cock and he tugged slightly before he aligned himself with her and pushed in to the hilt with a rushed force.

Her deep inner muscles were still contracting from her orgasm, and they tightened around him. As he pushed into her, she drew him deeper. She gripped to keep him as he withdrew.

The friction was awesome.

“Oh, you feel so good, sweetheart. So hot and wet. So tight.” Rhys reached for one of her ankles, pulling it up to his shoulder, and she compressed around him even tighter. “Fuuuuuuuck, yeah… clamp down on me,” he breathed out with short labored gasps. Their wet skin slapped together, and she began to tremble and convulse beneath him. He watched her as she came apart again, crying out and sobbing incoherently. Seeing her so free, seeing her expression soften and her eyes flicker open to look deeply into his. A fierce shudder ripped through him and he groaned. “Shea… I can’t hold it…”

For a moment, Rhys felt like his heart stopped beating, as though he was dying from the intense rush of pleasure that surged forth from him. He collapsed on top of her, still buried deep inside, still feeling the contractions of her beautiful pussy tightening around him.

He never wanted to move.

Ever.

He would have sold his soul at that moment to stay right there, a part of her, forever. Shea attempted to draw a breath, and the struggle roused him enough that he lifted up above her a little, putting his weight on his elbow.

He looked down at her, at her dark lashes fanning across her cheeks. The rise and fall of her soft breasts as she relaxed, bathed in the dancing light of the fire. She was practically listless… spent.

She was heaven personified.

Little by little, the poisonous guilt crept back into his heart.

She barely responded as Rhys lifted her and the blanket and carried her back over to the couch. He tucked her along the back, pulling the soft blanket over her. Moving quickly, he placed another piece of wood on the fire and stoked the blaze a bit before he joined her, pulling her close and tugging the blanket over the top of them.

He had to tell her.

He breathed a heavy sigh and pressed his lips against her forehead. His arms tightened around her and nuzzled his face into her hair.

Tell her…

“Shea, we really should talk about this…”

“No,” she breathed sleepily against his chest. Sated and fulfilled. “It will just ruin it. Sleep… we really need to sleep,” she yawned heavily and closed her eyes as she curled into his embrace. His fingertips traced the softness of her skin, along her shoulder and down her back.

“Shea…” he murmured again.

Shea didn’t respond. She was out cold, sleeping soundly against his twisted, tortured heart.

“Fuck, Shea,” he whispered against her hair. “What am I going to do about you?”

Sibylla Matilde grew up in the mountain valleys of Southwest Montana exploring the dusty Old West gold country on the back of a horse. She attended a two-room schoolhouse beginning in 1st grade & had the same teacher until she changed schools after 7th. Beginning at about age 12, Sibylla discovered historical romance, feeding off of work of Jude Deveraux & Lisa Kleypas. She loves a book that can make the reader run the gamut of emotions, from the sweet glow of new love to gut-wrenching heartache. She is a true romantic & always has stories floating around in her head, living in a fantasyland until she writes them down to free them.

Music is her emotional trigger. Growing up with a Wagnarian-loving mother, Sibylla was raised to treasure music that digs deep into the psyche, drawing out elation, sorrow, grief, desire. The soundtrack to her life includes many genres spanning centuries. She looooooooves Thirty Seconds to Mars (rather obsessively, actually... but, really, how can you NOT be crazy about this guy!? Jared Leto. Shhh. ) & pimps them out to all her friends through Spotify. She also delights in Met Opera HD broadcasts at her local movie theater & hopes (listening Met?) to someday see Diana Damrau reprise her role as Mozart’s Queen of the Night in Die Zauberflöte.

Sibylla lives with her husband and hero who saved her from her own calamitous, young-adult self. He makes her laugh daily, even when things are tough. He's proved to her that love really can heal a shattered soul. In 18 years, they have never had a fight, although argue regularly with their two teenage kids who have, unfortunately, inherited their father’s quick wit (unfortunate as it is a quick wit that Sibylla, herself, definitely does not possess – there is a reason she is a writer & not a stand-up comedian). They live a quiet life with their two weird little rescued Chiweenies. Wait… teenagers & little yap-dogs? OK, maybe not so quiet.

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