All it took was one look at Harley to know I wanted her.
It wasn’t about the deliberate sexual dry spell I was going through either … the one I voluntarily participated in. No, there was something about her innocence and her vulnerability that had possessiveness running through my veins.
I wanted her as mine, and I’d have her. I’d show her that although I could be cruel to those who went up against me, when it came to her, I’d make the world bow down at her feet.
The position I had been offered was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but it also came with working for a man who had the most notorious reputation in the city.
Noah Wright was anything but Mr. Right, especially not with his arrogant, unforgiving, and tyrannical attitude. He was wealthy and gorgeous, but he struck fear into people with just a look. They knew who held the power when he was in the room. So did I.
And I was now working for him and getting an up-close-and-personal experience with his cold, hardened, and abrasive personality … and it turned me on.
But there was something else under the frigid demeanor he showed everyone, a slice of warmth he showed only me. I knew if Noah wanted me, he could easily have me, because putting up a fight was not what I planned on doing.
I wanted him, but I wouldn’t be just a conquest.
Warning: Love insta-everything in a book? Like over-the-top sugary goodness? Want your stories dripping with cocky and possessive alpha heroes who only want one woman? Get a fan and a cold glass of water ready, because this story will definitely heat you up.
I want her.
Plain and simple truth. I want her. I want to push inside her. I want to grip her hair and tug her scalp and lick her bared throat. I want to tie her wrists and ankles to my bed, make her helpless, weak, begging for me.
I want to leave my marks on her, bruise that delicate flesh, have her sore and aching after I ravage her.
But my cravings are most definitely too dark for her.
I’m not the white-picket-fence kind of guy, and I can’t let myself start thinking otherwise.
My life is my brothers, the bar my father left us, and proving to everyone in this craphole town that we’re not the trash they think we are.
But Aubrey is off limits.
I should stick to the kind of girls I’m used to, the kind who are fine with one night.
Aubrey deserves love, real love, the kind of love I’m incapable of.
The problem is she’s all I want.
I know I can only destroy her.
But I can’t stay away.
I try to pretend that I’m not aware of the tattoos covering him. That I’m not aware of the muscles of his arms and legs. I try to pretend my core doesn’t tighten in response to his raw sexuality, pretend I don’t want him to push me up against the wall and have his way with me.
I’m so attracted to him I can barely focus.
He thinks I’m just some scared little girl, and maybe he’s right.
Am I really so naïve as to think that maybe what Smith and I are doing is different? Or is this just me being blind?
Sometimes I can see every emotion on his face. Other times, I can’t tell a damn thing he’s thinking.
I’m plagued by doubts, yet also trying to convince myself that I know what I know. I’m not just a booty call to Smith. There’s more between us than that. What that “more” is, I don’t know. But it’s there. Either that, or he’s the world’s greatest actor. Because the emotion in our last kiss was so strong it almost blew me over.
If I’m wrong about him, it will shatter my heart, break me into a million pieces.
The only thing worse would be walking away…