“You like it rough, baby? Is that what you want?”
As much as I want to say, fuck me up against this wall like one of your puck bunnies, I don’t want him to treat me like one of them either. Carter has earned a reputation as a ladies man over the years, and I have too much to protect to get sucked into a scandal. Though I can’t help but wonder if one involving Carter would help sell more books. Or at the very least, it may even give me new things to write.
“No, Carter. I would like you to stop touching me.”
I am the biggest liar on the planet. One minute of heavy petting with Carter, and I already have to make up an excuse so I can go into my bedroom to change my underwear. My juices are threatening to spill down my leg any second. In a short, tight skirt, I’d rather keep this bit of information to myself.
Slipping from his grasp, I slide my back against the wall to get away from him. We need to put some distance between us before I rip my shirt off like the Hulk and leap into his arms, begging him to fuck me.
“Did I do something wrong?” His tone is defensive.
I shake my head, doing my best to maintain some distance between us. “No, you didn’t do anything. It’s not you, it’s me.”
He narrows his eyes at me, confusion scrolling across his handsome face. “Did you really just use that line on me?”
I shrug, nonchalant. “Don’t get your boxers all twisted up in a bunch. Good things come to those who wait. I promise you that I will make it worth every second.”
Carter lets out an exaggerated sigh and sulks off toward the couch. “Whatever. You’re driving me fucking crazy, woman.”
Heading toward my bedroom to change my panties, I call out, “That may be true, but you can’t get enough of my crazy.”
He grunts in agreement, and I laugh to myself as I enter my bedroom, wondering how long it will take him to grow back his beard. Let the countdown begin.
If you liked Carter and Sydney’s story so far, this is only the beginning. Donovan is available now for pre-order only on Amazon.
PRE-ORDER DONOVAN ON AMAZON
Available May 24, 2017
CORRUPT ME
If you like new adult bad boy romances, keep reading for a free excerpt of CORRUPT ME, the first book in the Philly Corruption Series.
CORRUPT ME is available now!
Read CORRUPT ME for FREE with Kindle Unlimited.
Izzie Rinaldi has everything going for her. All she has to do is make it through her senior year of college, and then she’ll be off to law school, one step closer to assuming her position at the head of her family’s empire. After a chance encounter with the campus bad boy, Izzie can’t get him out of her head.
Luca Marchese, the smooth-talking son of the most notorious man in Philadelphia, is used to getting what he wants. He hasn’t forgotten the girl he knew as a child, and now that he has Izzie’s attention, Luca will stop at nothing to have her.
Luca’s defiance of the law turns Izzie on more than she cares to admit. She wants Luca to corrupt her in every way possible, despite his reputation as the king of one-night stands. Their attraction is undeniable, but their desire for one another isn’t enough for Izzie to overlook visits from federal agents and the potential ruin of her family.
Linked to Luca and a criminal underworld, Izzie discovers she’s more like him than she thought. But a future with Luca could mean swapping her diamond bracelets for a pair of handcuffs.
CORRUPT ME EXCERPT
CHAPTER ONE
IZZIE
As I headed down Broad Street toward the stadium, cars whipped through the city in a frenzy of chaos. With the Phillies on a winning streak, the streets were crowded with red-and-white baseball jerseys. Despite the fans cheering in the distance, the dull hum didn’t compare to Strickland University’s bustling campus.
My senior year would’ve been off to a good start if not for the tatted hothead in a Honda Civic who had almost run me off the road. I managed to swerve in time to miss the parked car to my right, but I couldn’t let him off that easy.
Even though I should remain in the right lane to get to my dormitory, I checked my side mirror, inched forward, and yanked the wheel into the left lane to cut off the beat-up Honda.
My best friend, Silvia Barker, rolled down her window, her middle finger dangling in the breeze, as I blew through the red light. As a minivan pulled onto the street, I parked in its space in front of Jefferson Hall.
I opened the door of my M Series Coupé, desperate to peel my legs from the leather seat and grabbed my Diet Coke bottle from the cup holder. Twenty yards away, even in the glaring summer sun, I spotted my next mistake. Shirtless eye candy threw footballs across the front lawn, dirt smeared on their sweaty bodies. I flipped up my sunglasses and leaned on the hood to get a better look.
Silvia slid out from the passenger side, a complaint on her lips. “Damn, it’s hot out here. I bet you could fry an egg on the pavement.”
I tugged on my canary-yellow tank top to fan myself. “I know. It’s at least ten degrees hotter than in the burbs.”
“The worst part is the humidity,” Silvia groaned.
I clicked the trunk release.
Silvia jumped off the curb to retrieve her black-and-gold studded purse from the trunk. She rifled through her bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “The Weather Channel is predicting a heat wave over the next few days.”
“A little weather won’t hold me back.” I chuckled, turning away from her as she lit a cigarette, the smoke assaulting my lungs. “I’m like an inmate on death row with just a few more days of freedom until my life is officially over.”
“Get a grip. It’s just a job, not the end of the world.”
“Just a job,” I moaned. “That’s easy for you to say. You’ll be off to California next year and I’ll be stuck working with Grandfather.”
Around a giant fountain, a group of girls in bikinis propped themselves up against a replica of the Liberty Bell. Water trickled down from the top of the cracked bell in the center of the quad, spraying them. They were the main attraction, and boys were tripping over their toes to get a second look. Returning students flocked from the well-preserved brownstone that lined three sides of the rectangular field. Strickland University had the pristine shine of an Ivy League college with skyscrapers serving as the backdrop. Even the statues of famous Philadelphians sparkled like fresh paint on new car.
“C’mon, Izzie Bear, let’s get a move on.” Silvia took a few more drags and then knocked the fiery ash off with the bottom of her sneaker.
I snickered, now walking toward her, as I ignored her previous comment. “I was waiting for you to put that out. You know those things will kill you.”
“Well, I like my cancer in the form of menthols, thank you very much.” Silvia slung her purse over her shoulder and laughed. Her black hair, fashioned into a bob resting below her chin, was stuck to a thin sheen of sweat on her cheek.
A punk rocker to the core, she wore a faded Warped Tour tee and jean shorts with holes in them. Our tastes were similar, except I’d pay for the ripped look where Silvia would make her own clothes. It wasn’t because she couldn’t afford them. She was one of those artsy chicks who enjoyed torturing her parents, a plea to get them to pay attention to her.
As the daughter of a former beauty queen, she didn’t look the part—although she did inherit her mother’s long lashes and perfect complexion—but her mother never glanced up from her martini glass long enough to notice. We were born into families with too much money and zero emphasis on human interaction.
I was about to open my soda when a car swerved next to me, its back tire just missing my foot. Blinded by rage, I gripped the plastic top and lunged my soda at the white Honda Civic.
“Watch it, asshole!” I screamed, my hands above my head.
The car screeched to a halt twenty feet ahead of us as Silvia stood at my side in shock. First, the blinkers turned on, and then a stocky twenty-something boy flung open his door. Dark
tattoos covered his forearms that were corded with muscles. He ran his hand through his shaggy auburn hair, spiked up in different places, as he grinned at me.
“Oh, shit.” Silvia slapped her hand over her mouth, her voice full of laughter. “That dude’s gonna murder us. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
I shut the trunk and followed Silvia across the lawn. I ran so fast that my heart pounded out of my chest, the adrenaline coursing through my veins, igniting a fire under my skin. It gave me such a rush that I couldn’t hide a satisfied smile as I peeked over my shoulder.
The thrill of doing something wrong, waiting to be caught in the act, always seemed more exciting than sex. Maybe there was something wrong with me, an inner sickness that I needed to address. For whatever reason, those small victories would get my juices flowing.
We yell-laughed, skirting around innocent bystanders, as we made our victory lap. Oblivious to my surroundings, my celebration ended faster than it had begun as I crashed headfirst into a thick wall of hunky man flesh. It happened so fast that I hadn’t had time to brace myself for impact, doing a half flip along with him. He landed on his back with me face-planting on top of him, my breasts pressed against his chin.
Of all the people to bump into, it had to be Luca Marchese. His cocky grin made my lip curl with revulsion even though he seemed to have the opposite effect on my nipples. One glance from him, and they betrayed me.
“Hey, princess.” His voice was deeper, sexier, than I remembered from class.
I blushed ten shades of pink from my cheeks to my neck, distracted by denim-blue irises set under dark brows. I rolled my eyes, attempting to peel myself off his bare chest, but he grabbed my wrists.
“Not so fast. I think you owe me an explanation.”
“I don’t owe you shit.”
I wiggled free from his grasp, straddling him without meaning to. I held his arms flat against the grass. Our faces were inches apart as I hovered over him, the sexual tension burning between us like a lit match. We shared a short-lived moment until his eyes found my breasts again, and he winked.
“Perv,” I said through clenched teeth.
Lean muscles brushed against my legs as he moved.
“What? You can’t fault me for checking you out”—he tilted his head to the side, his gaze falling over each of my curves—“especially when you’re shoving some of your best features in my face.”
He propped himself up onto his elbow and reached for my waist with his other hand, but I swatted his hand before he could touch me.
“You’re a feisty one. Got a mouth on you, too.” A fire blazed behind those beautiful blue eyes. “What I’d like to do with that dirty mouth of yours,” he said, rolling his tongue over his lip.
Damn, he had nice lips, both full and perfect. Every part of me wanted to lean in and kiss him and shove my fingers through his dark waves. No boy had ever affected me this way. But he was a man, not a boy. With radiant olive skin, chiseled features, and toned in all the right places, he could be a model.
My breath hitched at his comment.
I wasn’t sure, but I swore I could feel his erection pressing against my thigh, which should have freaked me out. Instead, I looked down, irritated that it turned me on more than I cared to admit.
He followed my gaze to his crotch and grinned, confirming my suspicions. “You should come to Delta Sig’s annual beach party. The less you wear, the better.”
“Well, you know what they say. Less is more.” My strange attempt at a joke only fueled the tension between us. “But, no, thanks.”
Tiny bumps ran down my arms and legs, a result of our close proximity. And, of course, he noticed the effect he had on me. He didn’t skip a beat.
Now aware of my body and how it reacted to him, I needed an escape. I stood over Luca, desperate to stop the electricity pulsating through me. Every part of me ached for him, craved his touch. Since I’d knocked him over, I stretched my arm out to help him up, and he accepted. I didn’t have the right to be a total bitch, maybe just a partial one.
Luca wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, the rest of his bare skin glistening in the sunlight. Eye contact proved to be too much for me.
He picked up the pigskin at his feet and pushed a hand through his cropped black hair. Luca had thick hair that moved back into place, like those people in shampoo commercials. With the football held against his hip, he could have been posing for the cover of a magazine, one I would have shamelessly hung on my wall.
I recognized the boy from Broad Street walking toward us in a Phillies baseball jersey. As our eyes met, he folded his arms over his chest.
“You rich bitch,” he said, his voice coming off like a growl. Cold and calculated, his hardened stare was similar to that of a trained killer.
What was it with Philly boys? They were so rough around the edges, like rabid dogs ready to claw their way out of a cage.
Luca pushed me behind him, his hand on my hip, sparking a new level of excitement within me. I damn near salivated on his tan skin as he came to my defense.
“Talk to her like that again, and you’ll be picking up your teeth off the ground.”
The guy moved his jaw back and forth, drawing attention to his cleft chin, and cracked his neck. No way was he close to backing down. Idiot.
“I’ll talk to her however the fuck I want to. Stay out of it. Bitch threw a soda in my car window.”
I slid out from Luca’s shadow and stepped between them. “You almost ran me over. Maybe you should watch where you’re going next time.”
Luca hooked his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get back in your car and forget it ever happened.”
I should have moved because I expected the boy to take a swing. But Luca smelled of sweat and citrus, a delicious combination that made me want to lick his skin.
“She owes me!” he yelled in Luca’s face, pointing at the tiny brown stains on his jersey. “Her soda exploded when it hit my dashboard.”
He was close enough that I got a whiff of stale cigarettes on his breath.
Nothing seemed to faze Luca, not even this crazy person invading his personal space. He took a wad of cash from his pocket, plucked a few twenties from the stack, and threw them at the boy. “There, consider the debt paid. Now, get outta here!” he spoke with a thick South Philly accent.
His over pronunciation of vowels wasn’t what caught my attention though. No, Luca commanded a presence, a sense of authority, that I felt in my bones. He didn’t back down. He just stood there, grinding his teeth together. I looked over my shoulder at Luca’s fraternity brothers huddled around us like an army.
“Keep your bitch on a leash,” the boy said, his body angled toward the street.
With that, I lost my damn mind. As I attempted to lunge at the guy, Luca clutched my bicep, holding me back.
I flicked my fingers under my jaw and smirked at the asshole. “Vaffanculo!”
Most of the time, I cursed in Italian, sort of a habit I’d picked up while growing up at Rinaldi Manor. Swear words sounded better in another language.
Luca laughed, shaking his head at me, intrigued. I stomped off toward Silvia. She was waiting for me with an impish grin, her back resting against a flagpole, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Wow!” Silvia’s mouth dropped open in awe. “That was pretty crazy, huh? And, now, Luca Marchese is over there, defending your honor. Never thought I’d see that.”
I turned around to see Luca with his fists full of the boy’s shirt, and I gulped. Because of my insane outburst, this stranger now had Luca’s fraternity brothers surrounding him. Damn it.
I sifted through the group just in time to hear Luca threatening him. The two of them were going at it in an attempt to counter the other. I had a feeling Luca was not used to anyone challenging him.
“That’s enough.” I touched Luca’s forearm.
He glanced at me. “Not until he apologizes.” He released his s
hirt and stepped back. He pivoted his foot, half-facing the boy and me, as if torn between where he wanted to be.
At the murderous look in his eyes and the heat behind his words, a strange pulse of electricity situated itself between my thighs. I wasn’t sure if my hands were sweating from the heat or the nervous energy shooting through my entire body.
The fountain girls watched him and studied me, their arms folded across their chests. I felt as though I were under a giant microscope. The vicious daggers these girls shot at me made me wonder if they would tackle me to get to him. Well, they could have him. Rich assholes like Luca were a dime a dozen at this school. And I’d had my fair share of drama over the years. I didn’t need any more.
When I refused to respond, Luca said, “Bella, he owes you an apology.” He shot the guy a pained expression. “Don’t you? Now, tell her you’re sorry. Nod your fucking head, and spit it out.”
“Don’t call me Bella,” I said, my jaw tensed in anger. “You lost the right years ago.”
“You’re beautiful. I’m just stating a fact, gorgeous.” Luca winked, one side of his mouth turned up into a crooked smile.
He pulled the same Greek-lettered shirt his brothers wore from the waistband of his black basketball shorts. As he wiped his face with it, I couldn’t help but stare.
“Sorry,” the boy grumbled.
Luca folded his arms across his chest, engaged in a stare-down with the crazy person in front of him, before turning toward me. “What kind of man would I be if I let him talk to a woman like that? You shouldn’t settle.”
“I’m not,” I snapped back. “I know how to choose my battles, and this isn’t one of them.” I waved my hand at the stranger. “Apology accepted. Just go!”
Sex Therapy Page 12
