Excerpt!
I would’ve loved to see her lose that control she held onto like armor. I wanted to hear how her voice changed when she came. I wanted her fingernails in my goddamn back as I buried myself inside her heat—those toned legs locked around my waist, taking me deeper …
For fuck’s sake, it was like I hadn’t been laid in the last two months.
“You don’t want to eat in the living room?” she asked, her bare feet padding on the kitchen floor behind me.
“Let’s eat here and hit up TV after if you’re not too tired. That cool?” I had questions I needed answers to before I pressed this thing between us further.
Fact was, something about me unsettled her. I would damn well find out what the hell it was and squash that shit by the time I left this house.
She’d been comfortable with me all night. No problem with my presence or my touch at all, but that could have been the nerves. I had a different kind of touching in mind now, and I wasn’t sure if she’d be on board.
We sat down at the counter and I scooted my stool closer. Her gaze jumped to mine before dropping to my lips for a second. She did that a lot, and my blood pressure went strato-fucking-spheric every time. I knew desire when I saw it, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why she wouldn’t give in to it.
I don’t know when I’d crossed over from keeping my shit contained with this woman to saying “fuck it” and giving it free rein. What I did know was she’d become something close to an addiction over the past month. She was a paradox I couldn’t figure out. I liked a challenge as much as the next asshole, but she was complex. I saw it in the insecurity behind her eyes every time she glanced away from me. A striking contradiction to her sharp tongue, iron will, and the confident businesswoman I’d witnessed in action tonight.
She’d hold eye contact with me until I said or did something to make her uncomfortable. I needed to know if it was a good or a bad uncomfortable.
Why? I wanted her. Straight-up.
Loading up one of the plates she’d taken down from a cupboard, I slid it in front of her.
“Thank you.” She glanced back at my mouth again before shifting her focus to the food.
I dropped a hand to her knee and squeezed. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’m gonna redefine your definition of dinner.”
She snapped her eyes to mine, her lips slightly parted. “Looking at you like what?”
I leaned in closer, her sweet cherry blossom and peach scent enveloping me. “Like you want me to kiss you, but you’re afraid of it.” I traced a circle around her knee through the slit of the dress. “For the record, that will happen, so you should get straight with it.”
I leaned in closer, her sweet cherry blossom and peach scent enveloping me. “Like you want me to kiss you, but you’re afraid of it.” I traced a circle around her knee through the slit of the dress. “For the record, that will happen, so you should get straight with it.”
Valentina
When Jaxxon Reginhardt walks into my gym, my rigidly structured existence begins to crumble. He’s a beast of a man, the personification of power, and more beautiful than any man has a right to be. He’s everything I avoid. Everything I fear. Yet, the second I see him, something deep within me roars to life. He makes me want. He sets my body aflame with just a look, and makes me wish I wasn’t a damaged shell no one will ever love.
I don’t have time for men when my whole world is built around self-preservation. But Jaxxon breaks down all of my strategically constructed boundaries like no one ever has.
How can I give into these new cravings, when there is a half-remembered demon from my past waiting for me to fall asleep, preying on my vulnerability?
If he ever knew the truth, he would run, and it would destroy me …
Jaxxon
The last thing I need in my complicated life is a snarky, frustrating, spitfire of a woman like Valentina Durare. As if that isn’t bad enough, there’s something haunted about her. My head says stay the hell away, but I can’t seem to get on board with that logic.
Something about me scares her. I can feel it. She’s a beautiful enigma I ache to understand.
The closer we get, the more she responds and draws me in. It can’t be me she fears. There must be something else … Something tied to the scars she refuses to show me.
But I’m stubborn son-of-a-bitch. I want all of her—not half. Because when we touch, nothing less will do but her complete surrender.
I need her to trust me, before her fear destroys us.
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Author bio:
Carolyn Anthony is a sucker for a dark romance with a dominant, tattooed, alpha man at the helm. Her characters deal with real life issues: the painful, the tragic, the damaging sort of life events that leave both external and internal scars, because she's been there. Her heroines are strong women at the core who will always find what's been lost, taken or exploited: their strength, their self-worth, their identity, their innocence or their love. She writes about women exploring their sexuality, owning that sexuality and enjoying it. Along for the ride, the flawed, yet redemptive and gorgeous men who prove worthy enough to be on that journey with them.
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