Read a SNEAK PEEK and be sure to add this powerful story to your TBR!
I try so goddamn hard to keep my lips off her, but her skin is too gorgeous not to kiss.
Just a taste, a small taste, I tell myself.
I place my mouth at the bottom of her throat and smell the heat from her flesh.
“Hurt me,” she moans.
Her words vibrate over my lips, and then I move them a few inches higher where her skin is even hotter.
I kiss her harder, traveling all the way up to her ear. I hold her earlobe between my teeth, knowing I’m losing all the control I had. She’s grinding against my dick. It will only take a few more pumps of her hips, and everything she’s wearing will be on the floor.
“Don’t ask for that, Andi.”
“Hurt me, Adrian.”
I cup her cheeks and make her face me, waiting for her eyes to lock with mine, before I say,
“There’s no turning back from this. Once I get a taste of you, I won’t stop. You’ll be mine.”
“I already am yours, Adrian.” She puts her hands on top of mine. “I don’t want you to stop.”
“You haven’t fully healed yet.”
“No,” she says, responding to my resistance, clamping down on me even tighter. “Don’t you dare take your hands off me. There’s nothing you can do that will break me. I can’t be broken—not anymore and not by you.”
She doesn’t know my strength, my power. She doesn’t know how easy it would be to reinjure her ribs or to press too hard on her lungs or to open one of her wounds. Brooks is what she’s used to, but compared to me, I have a feeling he’s as weak as a jockey. Until a few months ago, I trained and worked out for a living. My body has only bulked on more muscle since I switched to running.
What Andi needs is gentle. Soft. Slow.
I don’t know that I can be any of those things, especially with how badly I want her.
“You’re wrong,” I tell her. “I can hurt you.”
She grabs me by the collar of my shirt. I’ve noticed the hunger in her eyes over the last few days. It’s nothing compared to the way she’s looking at me now.
“Don’t make me beg. Because I will. And I’ll happily use my—”
I grip her by the back of the head and push her mouth onto mine. Our kiss is hard and deep. Then, I drag my hands through her hair and feel her body collapse into mine. She moans and reaches for the buttons on my shirt.
I move her hands off me and pull away, kissing each of her fingers. “Not yet.”
“Not yet?” she asks. “I can’t wait any longer, Hat Boy. I want to touch it, touch you.”
I laugh. I’ve never seen this side of her. Not the one who wants my dick this badly or the one who is this impatient to get her own way.
I like it.
Really fucking like it.
But she isn’t going to get my cock yet. Not until I know I won’t hurt her, especially not until I know she can take all of me without having to hold back. Still, there’s no way I’m leaving this kitchen without tasting more of her.
“Maybe I want to hear you beg,” I say, brushing my lips over her ear, taking in her smell.
Even though I’ve kissed her a few times before today, her smell is still new to me. It’s warm, sugary, like a mix of vanilla and buttercream frosting.
“Should I be on my knees when I do it?”
That image fills my mind as I run the pad of my thumb across her bottom lip—a lip that will soon be wrapped around my crown. I can almost feel her gloss on my shaft, the warmth of her tongue around my tip, the deepness of her throat.
“I want you on your knees, baby, but I want something else first,” I say, slipping my hands under her arms and lifting her onto the counter.
Now that she’s sitting, I pull the tank top over her head and unclasp her bra with my other hand. Her handful-sized tits fall out of the cups, her nipples turning even harder when the air hits them. I leave her skirt and heels on and take a step back, so I can really look at her.
“Goddamn it, Andi. You’re gorgeous.”
My gaze slowly drops down her neck, past her breasts, and onto her flat stomach. She has the kind of body that I desire. She isn’t tight and ripped like the swimmers on my old team. She has curves, small places for me to hold and squeeze, soft flesh that I can get lost in.
“Even with all my scars?”
She looks down, and it’s the first time I feel her insecurity. If I didn’t already throw her shirt and bra on the floor, I bet she’d reach for them to cover up.
“Hey.” I wait for her to look at me before I say, “They make you even more beautiful.”
Her scars aren’t flaws, and there’s nothing ugly about them. They are her story, her past. They reveal her fight and her courage. They show how stunning she really is.
And each of them has led me to her.
I slide off her skirt and thong and go straight to the scar by her rib, flattening my tongue to lick the whole length of it. Once I cover the thick, rough line, I move over to the mark on her wrist and the one at the side of her breast. Then, I slowly and hungrily eat my way across her hip. I feel her breathing quicken as I get lower, and her hands run through and clench my hair. Her moans vibrate inside her chest, and as I get closer to her navel, she quivers.
“If it’s too much, I’ll stop.”
“Don’t stop, Adrian. Please. Don’t stop.”
I rise again and drop my mouth onto her nipple, flicking just the tip with my tongue. Her gasp tells me how much she likes it. As I suck it between my lips, she crosses her legs behind me and digs her heels into my ass.
“Oh my God,” she breathes as I switch to my teeth, gently gnawing around it.
I can’t wait anymore. I have to taste her.
I jerk her hips forward and move her to the edge of the counter, my face going between her thighs. She smells even sweeter here. Her skin is warmer. And, as I swipe my tongue across the outside of her lips, I feel her melt.
She’s giving herself to me—her heart, her pussy, all of it.
It’s finally mine.
Just how I want it.
Clay ran from his family, his career.
From every dream he ever had.
He ran until he crashed.
Andi escaped the screams, the fists.
The pain that knocked her down.
She ran until she was thrown.
Brought together by a world of darkness and deceit, all they have is each other.
Freedom is what they want.
Though it comes with a price.
Because the second they stop running, they'll drown.
Meet Marni Mann
Meet Gia Riley
She’d rather pick truth than dare, bake than cook, and will always choose coffee over tea. Just like life, her stories always have a mixture of heart and humor.
You can connect with Gia on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram. She also has a reader group, Gia Riley’s Books, on Facebook. Stop by anytime, she loves hearing from readers!