by Kreig, K. L.
Me: Is this a new beginning?
Magic 8: Without a doubt.
~ The End ~
My musical inspiration for writing Undeniably Asher:
“Everything” by Lifehouse
“Dirty Little Thing” by Adelita’s Way
“Lay Me Down” by Sam Smith
“Take Me Over” by Red
“One and Only” by Adele
“Beautiful” by Akon
“Halo” by Beyonce
“Hold Me Now” by Red
“Give Me a Sign” by Breaking Benjamin
“This Time It’s Different” by Evan’s Blue
“Set Me On Fire” by Flyleaf
“Marry Me” by Train
“All Falls Down” by Adelita’s Way
“Thinking Out Loud” by Ed Sheeran
“So I Thought” by Flyleaf
“Skin” by Rhianna
“Lost” by Red
“Not Alone” by Red
Other works by K. L. Kreig:
The Regent Vampire Lords series
Surrendering
Belonging
Reawakening
The Colloway Brothers series
Forsaking Gray
Undeniably Asher
Turn the page for a sneak peek at Luke’s Absolution, the next book in the Colloway Brothers series. Release date Spring 2016.
Sneak Peek of
Luke’s Absolution
by K.L. Kreig
Enjoying the view of her toned bare thigh with each step she takes, courtesy of that nice high slit in her dress, I watch her sashay over to where I’m leaning against the bar. She orders a Corona Light from the bartender, tapping her perfectly manicured pink nails against the cool granite while she waits.
I’ve been watching her with that jackass photographer for the last hour, getting progressively angrier by the minute, but not quite understanding why. She’s smokin’ hot, yes, but I have absolutely no claim on her. Not that I wouldn’t mind a little sample. Or fifty.
Confusingly, it’s the same reaction I had when I saw her in his arms last Friday night. The urge to introduce his face to a cement wall was so great, had she not been drunk off her ass, I may not have been able to resist.
She’d be a handful for any man to juggle, no doubt both in bed and out, and picture boy, Cooper Jensen, isn’t even close to enough man for her. It will take a strong hand to control her, make her submit, and God himself help me, that’s all I’ve thought of since I laid eyes on her for the first time months ago. I want to hear her raw voice sobbing my name while I have her pinned helplessly underneath me. Who knew that Eric’s sister was so fucking sexy? Probably why he kept her under wraps all those years ago.
Addy Monroe is like a wild horse. Untamed, full of fire, even feral if you get her riled up enough. I had a small taste of that last weekend after Gray’s bachelor party when we stopped by the bar where the girls were and I saved her from herself by confiscating their almost empty bottle of Patron. Every heated word she spat tugged straight on my cock, and by the time I left with her passed out in my arms, I was stone cold hard. Let’s just say it was a long fucking night all around.
I want her. Not that I deserve her. She’s untainted, unlike me. I have so many fucking stains, industrial-strength cleaner couldn’t remove them all. But I’m not looking for a relationship; I’m looking for a good fuck. I’m looking for oblivion.
Liar, my conscience loudly whispers.
Fuck off, I tell him, even louder.
I discreetly adjust my hardening dick. “No tequila tonight?” I feel the smirk on my face, but don’t know if she sees it or not, because I’m trying to refrain from looking at her as I will my own body into submission.
“Unrequited love sucks, doesn’t it?” she replies instead with a bite before taking a sip of her beer straight from the bottle. I love a woman who isn’t too prissy to drink her alcohol from the actual container it’s served in. More than that, I love a woman with a smart, feisty mouth.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart.”
I flick my eyes over to see hers stray to Gray and Livia across the ballroom and her lips upturn in a sly smirk. “Whatever you say. I’m pretty much the subject matter expert on that shit.”
She turns and leans her back against the bar, mirroring my stance. We’re both silent, watching the happy newly married couple with drinks in our hands. The more I think about what she said, the more it plain pisses me off.
Yes, I care deeply for Livia. I have for years, but no one can possibly understand what I watched her go through and what I had to suffer through myself.
And even if Livia could have been mine, I know her heart will always belong to Gray. I could never interfere with that. Wouldn’t. Besides, I’ve done enough to my family without intentionally trying to steal my brother’s girl. I do have a few shreds of decency left that I’m trying desperately to hold on to. They’re wound so tightly around my fingers they’re cutting off the circulation, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let them go.
Regardless of what Addy may think, I’m genuinely thrilled for them both, because after what she’s been through, no one deserves happiness more than Livia. But fuck, I won’t deny watching them get married today was hard. Harder than I thought it would be, and it’s not because I still want her. I gave up on that notion years ago, even if my heart didn’t quite get the memo.
No…it was hard, because the love that hovers above them like a bright golden halo is sickening. What’s even more sickening is that as I watch them, I’m envious. I want that, but the logical part of me knows I’ll never have it. I push those feelings of optimism that keep bubbling to the surface down deep into the muck again. I may have moved past the worst times of my life, but in no way do I kid myself that I’m worthy of a woman’s love and more importantly, acceptance for who I am and the things I’ve done.
So tonight I need to forget.
About Livia.
About my tainted past.
About all the things I now want but will never get.
And I think Addy Monroe is just the woman to do that, even if it can only be for a few minutes. My dick hardens painfully whenever I set eyes on Livia’s best friend, one of my best friend’s, Eric’s, little sister, and I have to be honest…she’s the only one who’s stirred it for quite some time now. I’ve wanted this spitfire since the minute I saw her shaking the tits and ass God so graciously blessed her with at the bar when I first came back to Chicago in September to protect Livia from our sordid past.
“Maybe fifteen minutes in the back will wipe that smirk off your face,” I whisper as I lean sideways toward her. In my peripheral, I see her head turn to me.
“Wow, a whole fifteen minutes, huh? I think I’ll have to take a rain check on that offer, Rico Suave.” She spins on her heels to walk away from me.
Oh hell no.
Next thing I know, her body is pressed against mine, held in place by a firm palm to her neck and another circled around the trim waist I’ve wanted to squeeze all night.
Sweet Jesus and Mary, she feels fantastic. I have to suppress the groan that wants to escape from somewhere deep inside, because it would give her too much power over me and control is what I need to wrestle from her, inch by agonizing inch. My lips are at her ear, grazing the tender flesh with each word I rasp.
“Sweetheart, I can spend the next fifteen hours lavishing untold pleasure and blissful pain all over and inside every single inch of your delectable body until you beg for me, cry for me, to stop.”
The way her breath hitches has my cock pleading to ram into her over and over. Uncaring who may see, I release her waist and grab her hand, bringing it between our bodies, forcing it to my shaft with mine on top. Guiding her, I squeeze, moving our twined fingers up and down the length of me. She moans and my eyes close at the image of sinking my cock slowly between her red-glossed clever lips.
Nipping her lobe harshly, I grate, “Let’s start with that smart mou
th of yours, shall we?”
Excerpt from
Forsaking Gray
by K.L. Kreig
Prologue
Five years earlier…
Livia
“Do you, Peter, take this woman, Livia, to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part?”
“I do,” he responds. Smugly.
“Do you, Livia, take this man, Peter, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold….”
Every little girl dreams of her wedding day. That magical moment when you pledge your undying love to the man who makes your heart beat a little faster, who makes your panties a little wetter and who you think will make the most handsome salt-and-pepper-haired ninety year old ever to walk the earth. Your father will walk you down the aisle, arm in arm, in a wedding dress so beautiful, your childish vision couldn’t do it justice and he’ll struggle to hold back the tears of both happiness at giving you away and sadness that you’re no longer his little girl.
Every young woman dreams of the honeymoon that will quickly follow. Will he whisk me away to Paris, where we’ll live on wine and cheese and each other for two weeks solid? Or will we fly to a secluded island, sit on the beach, soak in the sun and drink pina coladas that our private butler delivers every hour on the hour? Or maybe we’ll decide to cruise the Mediterranean, visiting exotic stops such as Istanbul or Rome or Santorini. But at the end of the day, it really doesn’t matter where you go, because you’ll be together.
And every girl, young or old, dreams of being married to a man who worships the ground she walks on, puts her on a pedestal and would give his life for hers without thought or hesitation.
I was every girl. Except, instead of the fancy wedding, complete with tears of joy, I’m standing in a courthouse in front of a justice of the peace with tears of heartbreak welling in my eyes. Instead of the elaborate gown, complete with a long, beaded train that I picked out with my sister and my best friends, I’m wearing a simple black sheath and matching pumps, which fit my somber mood perfectly. And instead of marrying the man who I love to the depths of my very soul, who will love and cherish me all the days of our lives, I’m marrying a monster…
“You may now kiss the bride.”
…who will make the next one thousand two hundred and twelve days of my existence a living nightmare from which I cannot wake.
Chapter 1
Livia
I see him across the room. I’m utterly breathless.
My heart races.
My stomach flutters.
My soul disintegrates into a pile of scattered ashes once again.
I’m a complete fucking mess. No muscle will obey my command to move, even my eyelids. They refuse to take away his image for even a second.
Why is he here?
I shouldn’t be taking this risk. I shouldn’t be openly ogling him, but I can’t look away. Holy mother of perfection…he’s everything I remember and more. As breathtaking as the very first time I laid eyes on him. He’s every woman’s fantasy, probably men too. I see other women watching him and I want to scratch their eyes out. Some blatantly stare, as I do. Some sneak sly glances so their spouses or dates won’t notice.
Foolish.
Of course their dates notice a textbook male specimen such as him in the room. All other men are busy pissing in a circle around their women to ward him away.
As if sensing my weighty stare, his eyes lock with mine. Neither of us move.
The woman dripping off his arm, hanging on his every word, seems oblivious to our connection. Every sound fades away as we stare into each other’s eyes from across the ballroom. Eyes I’m all too familiar with but haven’t seen in what seems like a lifetime. Eyes that haunt me.
God, I miss him with a raw ache that intensifies daily.
“Wow, look at that fine piece of ass. He’s fuckable,” whispers one of my best friends, Kamryn, following my stare.
The best of my life.
He starts across the room in my direction, his date all but forgotten as he leaves her in his dust. She’s calling after him, but he simply waves his hand in dismissal, not bothering to look back. His angry eyes never leave mine, his full lips drawn in a tight thin line.
Oh shit. Time to go.
“Kam, I’m not really feeling well, sweetie. I’ll call you in the morning after my interview.” I’m frantic to escape. I turn to leave, heels clicking as I quickly walk toward the exit. Kamryn practically runs to keep up.
“Let me call my driver for you, hon.”
I call over my shoulder as I race toward my escape. “No, no. It’s fine. There are plenty of cabs out front. I’ll just hop in one and be home in no time. Really, it’s fine.”
Her grip is like an iron fist around my arm as she maneuvers me back to face her. Kam frowned, clearly not believing the blatant lie I threw her way. Whatever. Over her shoulder I estimate he’s just fifty feet from where we now stand and moving at a clipped pace. As if by divine intervention, he’s stopped by a buxom blond whose nipples are ready to fall out of her slutty dress any second. One deep breath and pop, they’re free. He shakes her off, heading in my direction once again. Can’t blame her for trying.
Crap Livia. Get. Out. Now.
“I think I may be sick, Kam. I’d really like to get home before I lose those little shrimp thingies I just ate.” Not so much of a lie this time. My stomach is doing somersaults.
I turn and flee. I hear Kam call after me, but keep going this time. Making it to the safety of a cab before he reaches me is paramount.
Damn Kam and her insistence that I wear her four-inch Louboutin heels. So what if the fire engine red is a perfect complement to my also borrowed black leather strapless sheath. The shoes are still half a size too small and pinch my feet, making a hasty escape nearly impossible.
I should ditch the damn things like Cinderella. I bet she didn’t even ‘lose’ her glass slipper. She was no doubt trying to escape this supposed Prince Charming because he was an arrogant asshole, and it fell off in her urgency to get away. In traditional antifeminism fashion, a man weaved an elegant story about how much better a girl’s life would be with a boy in it. He would swoop in and save her from her persecuted life and they would live happily ever after.
Bullshit. All of it.
There is no happily ever after. Not for me anyway. That childish fantasy was ruthlessly shattered over five years ago.
I make it out of the ballroom, down the stairs and have the front hotel door halfway open when a strong hand clamps down on my shoulder, effectively stopping my forward movement. An electric current runs through my body and I feel him everywhere. His hand may as well be between my legs for all my body cares.
Damn you Louboutin and your impractical shoes.
“Hello Livia,” a deep sensual voice drawls behind me. His voice and touch combined almost make my knees buckle. After all these years, he still has the same effect on all of my senses like the day we met. He sounds the same, albeit a bit more grown up. And a lot more sexy.
Jesus, I don’t think I can do this.
You can do this Livia.
You have to do this.
Be cold.
Be unaffected.
Lie.
I take a deep breath, will the tears back, and steel myself before turning to face him.
“Hello Gray. Fancy seeing you here.” Holy…breathe, Livia, breathe. I am almost taken aback by how utterly gorgeous he is. He had been stunning across the room and he was always beautiful, but up close he’s like a golden angel sent directly from heaven—or hell—to tempt me. His face is no longer boyish, but all man, complete with the sexiest scruffy whiskers I have ever seen. This is more than a five o’clock shadow, but not quite a full beard. I’m a sucker for scruff. Especially on Gray, but he’s never worn it like this. It’s downright sinful.
Double damn.
&
nbsp; “What are you doing here Livvy?” Livvy. I haven’t heard that name in over five years. It sounds so damn good I want to weep.
Dig deep, Livia…maintain the façade you’ve perfected so very well.
“I came for the same reason you probably did, the animals.” Bravo for me. I sounded very confident…and very stupid. My internal head is shaking at me sadly.
He says nothing, remaining stoically silent, his eyes searching mine for the truth.
Subject change, before he asks too many more questions, for which I’ll have to build lie on top of lie. I’ve told so many lies I need a cheat sheet to keep track of them all. “So, why are you in Chicago?”
His penetrating gaze makes me even more nervous than I already am, and I start to squirm. I never intended to run into anyone I knew here, let alone him. I would have never let Kam talk me into this stupid fundraiser otherwise.
Shit. Shit. Shit. This is so not good.
“I took over my father’s company, and we moved the headquarters from Detroit to Chicago last year.”
He lives here? In Chicago? My mind is spinning. I’m trying to process the fact that my ex-fiancé lives in the same city as I do, and that he took over his father’s company already. I didn’t remember Frank being that old. I shouldn’t be engaging him in conversation, but I can’t help but ask, “Did he retire?”
“No. He died.” I gasp and my heart sinks.
“God, I’m sorry Gray, I had no idea. Your dad was a wonderful man.” He was like a father to me, more so than my own, who’d essentially sold me to save his own life. I loved that family. They were like my own until they weren’t anymore.
“Of course not, Livvy. How could you possibly when you fucking disappeared over five years ago, without a trace, without a call, without a forwarding goddamn phone number?” His retort was ripe with barbs, and it stung in the way it was meant to. I deserved some of his ire yes, but not all of it.
