Big, hard-drinking, and as rough and demanding in bed as he is out of it, Bax may be the baddest brother yet...
NEW YORK TIMES, USA TODAY, WALL STREET JOURNAL and international bestselling author Jasinda Wilder is a Michigan native with a penchant for titillating tales about sexy men and strong women. Her bestselling titles include ALPHA, STRIPPED, WOUNDED, and the #1 Amazon and international bestseller FALLING INTO YOU. You can find her on her farm in Northern Michigan with her husband, author Jack Wilder, her six children and menagerie of animals.
I’ve always been a one-night stand kind of girl, and sometimes I wouldn’t even stick around for a full night. Brock was supposed to be a one-night stand—that’s how it started out, at least. Only, what was supposed to be a fun one-time-only hookup with a hot local guy ended up with me discovering Brock’s potency six different ways by breakfast.
That was all it took. One night with Brock, and I was hooked. But hooked doesn’t mean ready for a relationship.
That’s what he wants. And deep down, I’m starting to fear that’s what I want too.
I’m just not sure I’m ready for it.
I mean, he’s the literal epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, plus he’s a pilot…with a six-pack and perfect hair and a smile to melt me from the inside out. How’s a girl supposed to resist that? I couldn’t. I can’t. I’ve tried, but I keep going back for more.
I’ve got it bad, real BADD.
The trouble with Zane isn’t getting him, it’s keeping him.
And the trouble with me is, even if I could hold onto a man like Zane, I wouldn’t know what to do with him. It’s not in my nature, and if life has taught me anything, it’s to not trust anyone, least of all men like Zane. He’s a warrior through and through, hard, muscular, gorgeous, tenacious, and yet oddly tender toward me.
Experience and instincts are telling me to run from Zane Badd as fast as possible, but my heart and my body are telling me to stay, to hold on and not let go. Yeah, it’s a conflict as old as humanity itself, but it’s brand new for me.
* * *
Life as Navy SEAL doesn’t exactly prepare you for normality. Yeah, I can tend bar and goof off with my seven crazy brothers, but what do I do when the woman of my dreams—dreams I didn’t know I’d had until I saw her—explodes into my life like a frag grenade? I’m trained to attack, to win, to survive at any costs, and figuring out what to do about a woman like Amarantha Quinn will take every scrap of tenacity and courage I possess. Combat is easy, it turns out, in comparison to facing your own fears and scars.
And then sometimes, just when you think you’ve got it finally figured out, fate throws you a screwball and sends everything FUBAR.
Six-six, built like a god, red hair, blue eyes, and a tree trunk between his legs. Yeah. This is the guy I got kidnapped with. Phrasing is important there: kidnapped WITH, not kidnapped BY.
Fortunately, Duke Silver is a hard-core badass, because it's going to take every last shred of skill he has as a killer commando to keep us both alive, and even then, nothing's a sure thing.
A matter of secrets . . .
Undercover cop Logan "Kash" Ryan can't afford a distraction like his new neighbor Rachel Masters, even if she's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. To catch a serial killer, he needs to stay focused, yet all he can think about is the feisty, long-legged coed whose guarded nature intrigues him.
A matter of lies . . .
Deceived and hurt before, Rachel would rather be a single, crazy cat lady than trust another guy, especially a gorgeous, tattooed bad boy with a Harley, like Kash. But when his liquid-steel eyes meet hers, it takes all of Rachel's willpower to stop herself from exploring his hot body with her own.
A matter of love . . .
As much as they try to keep it platonic, the friction between them sparks an irresistible heat that soon consumes them. Can Kash keep Rachel's heart and her life safe even as he risks his own? Will she be able to forgive his lies . . . or will she run when she discovers the dangerous truth?
And I intended to fully explore that reason, as soon as he finished rescuing me, along with the other women I had been kidnapped with. One of whom was a sassy, saucy woman named Layla. I tried to convince her, and myself, that Puck Lawson wasn't my type.
She just laughed. "Honey, Puck isn’t anyone’s type," she told me. "You don’t go looking for guys like Puck. They find you, and somehow, you’re never quite able to walk away after that.”
Although, I had a feeling I might be unable to walk at all by the time he was finished with me...
I am desperate. For you. For touch. For a kiss. For the scrape of your hand down my stomach. For the slide of your lips across my hipbone. The sweep of your thigh against mine in the dulcet, drowning darkness. For the warm huff of your breath on my skin and the wet suck of your mouth around me and the building pressure of need reaching release...I am mad with need.
Wild with it.
I cannot have you. I have lost you, as I have lost myself.
And so I go in search. Of myself, and thus the man who might return to you, and take you in his arms.
I loathe each of the thousands of miles between us, but I cannot wish them away, for I hope at the end of my journey I shall find you. Or rather, find myself, and thus…you. Myself, and thus us.
I am taking the long way home, Ava.
* * *
I’m losing my mind, and I don’t know how to stop it. I shouldn’t be writing to you, but I am. I’m friendless, loveless, and lifeless. You’re out there somewhere, and still you’re all I really have. I hate my reliance and dependence on you, emotionally and otherwise, and that reliance is something I’m coming to recognize. I hate that I can’t hate you as much as I want to. I hate that I still love you so much.
I hate that there’s no clear solution to our conundrum. Even if we could forgive each other, what then?
I hate you, Christian. I really do.
But most of all, I don’t.
Complicatedly (still) yours,