“Only for you,” he says while pushing me back and climbing over me. “Only for you will I say those words…. I fucking love you, pretty girl, and I will until the day I fucking die. That I know for sure.”
I smile. “And kids?”
“Can we start slow? We have time.”
“Slow? As in how slow?” I ask breathlessly while he pushes my legs apart.
“How about you move in, then we talk more about the kids part. But I would like to be buried deep in you every night for the rest of my life.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I smirk as he reaches between my legs, touches my clit with his fingers, and rubs in a circular motion while he nips at my lips.
Chapter Thirty-One
Marcus
She’s asleep next to me while my hands roam her perfect body. Rochelle moans, and turns to face me.
“Did you ask me to move in with you last night?” she asks, smiling up at me.
“I think I did.”
“Wowser! Who knew all I had to do was break my own heart for you to come to your senses?”
“It broke mine, too.”
Rochelle’s eyes go wide at my words. But I’m not going to lie to her, I was fucking lonely and desperate when she left. I didn’t know I needed her that much until she was gone. I didn’t know I wanted her so badly until I couldn’t have her.
“Did you think this was how we’d end up?”
“We’ve only just started,” I say, leaning into her, kissing along her bare neck, when her phone starts ringing. She moans, wanting to ignore it but knowing she can’t. “I have to get it,” she says when it rings again.
“Rochelle.”
I hear a scream. Rochelle giggles at the sound of her screeching voice.
“It’s my sister,” she whispers. “Clearly, still drunk.”
“So, I may be at your lover’s brother’s playhouse thing. Can you come get me?”
Rolling off her I get up.
Rochelle
I didn’t want to come back here—I hate this place and the memories it holds of Tanika now. The gates open and I spot Blaze standing at the wooden door, holding it open as I slide out of my car.
“Déjà vu,” he says.
“Yes, another one close to me I’ll have to save from you,” I say while walking up to him.
Blaze’s lip quirks. “As long as you don’t get this one killed, we’ll be fine.”
His words anger me, and I instantly want to strangle him.
How fucking dare he!
“This is my sister, and she will not have anything to do with you.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“I haven’t killed you because Marcus loves you. Don’t make my brother hate me because I found the need to end you.”
I hear Kat giggle and watch as she comes out. She leans on him and he takes her weight. “Rochelle, how come you never invited me here before? I love it.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” I tell Kat.
Blaze turns to her. “Your annoying sister is right. Don’t fucking come back.”
Kat seems to straighten and sober all at once. “What the fuck?” Her eyes turn to angry slits as she steps up to Blaze. Kat has a temper, a bad one. “Did you really just say that?”
“Yes. Now fuck off.”
Kat shakes her head, steps closer, and I watch as she grabs his cock, cupping it in her palm. “I’m going to break your fucking heart, Blaze, and you’re going to enjoy every single moment of it.” Kat smiles, and I know she means every word. She drops his cock and walks over to me threading her arm through mine as we turn and walk off. I flick a glance back over my shoulder to Blaze, and see him watching her with a look I can’t quite read on his face.
Is that appreciation?
Loss?
Or is it hope?
I don’t know, but I’m eager to find out.
Because Kat is going to do exactly what she said—she is going to break that man’s heart.
She’s vengeful like that.
This is going to be fun to watch.
Read Kat’s story now in Kisses and Warfare!
USA Today Best Selling Author T.L. Smith loves to write her characters with flaws so beautiful and dark you can't turn away. Her books have been translated into several languages. If you don't catch up with her in her home state of Queensland, Australia you can usually find her travelling the world, either sitting on a beach in Bali or exploring Alcatraz in San Francisco or walking the streets of New York.
Find T.L. online:
Blurb
A male escort. His virgin client. What happens when one night isn't enough?
I'm an escort, which means this date is nothing more than a mutually enjoyable transaction. There shouldn't be any surprises, not for one as jaded as me, but when I walk into the penthouse suite of L'Etoile, everything changes.
1) For one thing, Bea is heartstoppingly gorgeous. Pale green eyes and endless freckles. Curves I want to spend all night exploring, as if her body was made for
2) Her innocence makes me want to use my entire inventory of bedroom tricks on her and then invent a few more.
3) Except that... she's a virgin.
I can initiate her into the world of desire without letting her get attached, can't I? A few hours of tutoring, and at the end of the night a small fortune will be deposited into my bank account.
But once I realize one night with her won't be enough, I'm the one who's screwed.
Chapter One
The city looks beautiful at night, its rough edges kissed by moonlight, bright neon lights full of hope. My Bugatti slices through the darkness, smooths over cracked downtown streets. The leather is warm on the steering wheel, the gears smooth under my control. Every muscle in my body hums with anticipation, the certainty that I’m going to get laid tonight. It’s more than sex that gets me off. It’s the journey. Discovering what makes a woman work. What holds her back and what lets her go.
I pull into the valet driveway and toss my keys to Alejandro, who has three kids at home and another one on the way. “Take care of her,” I tell him, slipping a twenty into his palm.
“It’s my pleasure,” he says, giving the gleaming curves an admiring look.
She’s gorgeous, this car. The first thing I purchased for myself once I was done scrabbling for scraps. Once I learned how to use my particular talents. Her form is both sleek and curvy, the kind of body that drives a man to his knees. But it’s not the way she looks that I love best. It’s the way she moves. The engine that has a mind of her own, sometimes sweet surrender, sometimes temperamental.
I love her best when she gives me a challenge.
L’Etoile is a luxury hotel with 24-karat gold chandeliers and white marble floors. A slice of European aesthetic in the center of Tanglewood’s urban sprawl. It’s garish and expensive, which suits me fine. It was founded in the ’40s by a woman who claimed to be French nobility. In reality, she was the madame of a lucrative brothel.