Blurb:
“I hate that I love you,” she said. “You left me.”
“I lost you, there’s a difference. Now that I found you, I intend to keep you.”
Lost.
I’d tasted the sweetest fruit of temptation, and I wanted another bite. I had promised myself before, but once wasn’t enough. The savory flavor of her lingered long after I’d lost her. Contending with the pressure to return to the fight, in order to prove myself to my father and the world, I had to let her go.
Found.
It has been a year. Sofie Vincentia and I had played a dangerous game. For one night, we pretended, only to discover our farce was real. I’d lost her, but I hadn’t stopped searching, hoping for her return. I was used to getting what I wanted, so when she didn’t come to me, I had to go after her. This would be the greatest fight of my life.
THIS IS A STANDALONE.
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Excerpt:
The sound of her heels, retreating from me, echoed down the hallway in the
opposite direction of the gathered crowd. I was still dressed for the fight. I’d rubbed a towel
down my body, as I didn’t care to change or shower yet. I needed to get to her before she
escaped me again. Following behind the click of her heels, I called her name a second time,
commanding her to stop. She didn’t listen. For the slightest second, it sounded like the
tapping on the tile increased. I sped up my pace, determined to catch her.
“Sofie,” I called out. The tension built. She was going to run. My hand reached out
for her, as I drew closer. My stride lengthened. Her tight skirt curved over her hips, holding
her snug ass, and trapping her steps. High heels prevented her from moving any faster,
despite her determined hustle. This wasn’t how I remembered her dressing. She wore loose
skirts and fitted t-shirts, except on the second night. An image of a black dress being
removed from delicate shoulders flitted through my memory. My eyes fell to her ass again,
recalling what was under that shapely skirt. I’d seen it, felt it, tasted it, and I wanted it again.
“Sofie,” I demanded. Her name was more than a plea; it was a command to stop.
We were headed in a circle. The sound of the gathered crowd was echoing back toward us.
She was trapped. If she kept going, she’d lead us directly into the paparazzi pit. Cameras
would capture her and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to explain who she was to the public.
Not yet. I needed a private reunion first.
Her pace slowed. My outstretched fingers captured her upper arm and tugged her
to a halt. Her body was gently slammed against the cement block wall behind her, and my
“Sofie.” My breath caught as I scanned her face. Bright blue eyes under a pinched
brow looked briefly at me, then avoided my gaze. Her face was flushed. I remembered that
pink skin. Another vision flashed in my memory of her questioning me over a wooden wine
bar. She was interested in my anatomy at that moment. I wanted her to be interested in my
anatomy again. A certain part of me definitely had her attention, if she wished for it. I wasn’t
only hard; I was towering straight out for her. My dick knew what it wanted. It was drawn to
the lyrical whispers of what I assumed would be wet folds beneath black panties.
Another vision flashed through my mind. This included stripping her of black
lingerie: simple, satin, and molded to the shape of her. I’d never seen anything so tempting,
until she was removed of it. White skin, pink nipples, and a dark mound pointing to a
treasure were the most beautiful colors I’d ever seen, next to her eyes, which were glaring at
me as I assessed her face.
“Cain,” she said sharply. Her head lifted, holding it high; she was pissed. There
was no other way to describe her expression. She hated me. I couldn’t exactly blame her, but
it wasn’t the reunion I anticipated. It wasn’t the reunion I expected. It wasn’t the reunion I
“My sweet temptation,” I hissed to her. My tongue licked my lips, eager to taste
hers. She swallowed, and my eyes widened at the smooth roll of her skin against her throat.
My hand slipped up to her shoulder and my pelvis fell forward, instinct drawing my dick to
her. I flinched uncontrollably as it hit her lower abdomen. It craved some place lower on her
She didn’t push me away. In fact, her hands were splayed against the cool cement
behind her. Her eyes shone bright beyond those tempting red glasses, and bright red lips
matched, sucking in air at the invasion of my body against hers. I wanted those lips to suck
somewhere else. She’d done it before. I knew how sweet she could be, but her eyes were
harder now. Those lips wanted nothing to do with any part of my body.
My hand continued to travel up the tender skin of her throat, and she swallowed
hard again, trembling beneath my touch. She wasn’t repulsed by me, but she was frightened.
I didn’t want her to be afraid of me, but she needed to be concerned. If my father found her,
there would be trouble like she’d never known before. Her sweetness did not understand the
depths of evil associated with me.
“Don’t touch me,” she growled.
On second thought, perhaps she did.
My hand slipped into her chestnut locks and tugged gently, but enough to remind her that I
was a strong man. I wouldn’t hurt her. In fact, I was certain I hadn’t hurt her in the past. I
was the one that suffered.
“One night, you longed for my touch,” I whispered harshly, drawing my mouth
closer to hers. “In fact, I remember someone sweetly asking for it.”
My hands slithered in opposite directions. One surveyed the hilly swells of side
breast while the other travelled the valley of her abdomen until it rose over curvy hips. I
gripped a fist full of material and tugged it upward, jostling her body with the rough hitch of
“If I remember correctly, you wanted me,” I purred against her moist skin. Her
fear produced a sheen of sweat that covered her face. My nose dragged along her jaw, then
dipped down her neck. Holding herself still, her hands remained flat against the wall to her
sides. My hips pinned her in place as the skirt rose.
My fingers graced the soft skin of her thigh. She flinched and I pressed firmly
forward. There was no doubt of my excitement. Dressed only in my fighting shorts, my bare
chest brushed close to her generous breasts, which had been covered with my hands and
mouth in the past. I wanted to reenact those memories, but my fingers had other intentions.
In a jagged drag of skin against skin, I gripped her thigh, climbing upward, heading for the
“Do you still want me?” I whispered into her neck. “Do you remember?” I groaned
as a thick digit delved through the warm moisture of folded skin, ripe for what I intended. I
wanted inside her. Damp with desire, I slipped aggressively into her. I demanded she
remember as I added a second finger. Her breath hitched as she moaned and heavy lids
“Look at me,” I commanded. My forehead almost rested on hers, but I held back
enough to stare into her eyes. I wanted her to see me, remember me, remember what I’d
done to her. How she felt under me, wrapped within her. I grunted as my dick flinched, my
skin too tight. This temptress had to recall what she had done to me, as well. I was going to
come undone being this close to her, and yet she was so far away.
Blue eyes pierced mine, but they still contained a softness within them. I didn’t
want to believe my sweet temptation could rot. She was spoiled by me, but she wasn’t
ruined. She was stronger than that.
“Do you remember?” My fingers increased their exploration. It was a renewed
excavation. They rediscovered what they missed. Sliding in and out, she joined my pace. Her
hips moved slowly, then increased, matching the beat inside her.
“That’s it, my sweet.” I pulled back to watch her lids droop, then fight to open
wide. “Good girl,” I rasped, as I brushed back a stray hair but didn’t falter in my rhythm
between her legs. Her hands released from the wall. Palms flattened against my shoulders
then wrapped around them as best they could. She had delicate hands. Tender and gentle.
They had teased as she had tugged me and stroked me the first time. I jolted and my hips
pressed toward her, but my hand was the focus. Her fingers dug into bare skin covered in
tattoos of the snake I was. Sharp, blunt nails soon pinched into me as her hips rolled and
her luscious center rocked.
“I want you to remember,” I commanded. “Remember where I’ve been. Who I
am.” My fingers took on a life of their own, and they worked hard, digging deeper into the
tender cavern of warmth, wet and ready for me. My thumb flicked over the sensitive pearl
outside of her. Her breath hitched. Nails gripped into hard skin. She didn’t have claws, not
my girl, but she was latching onto me. That’s exactly what I wanted.
“Tell me you didn’t forget,” I whispered, my voice dropping as my pace continued.
She didn’t answer me and I stopped. The blue rivers turned to ice as she glared at me. I was
the devil. And I would break this reunion, if she didn’t play my game.
She shook her head, refusing to speak. I pulled out of her quickly, feeling the
release of her juices as they slid down her leg. Her eyes narrowed only slightly. Then she
said my name. It was hardly more than a squeak, a meek plea, an unanswered question. Her
nails slowly released me. Fingers peeled upward from my skin. I was going to lose her.
Fingers slammed into her and her head gently fell back. She sucked in a harsh
breath, as I demanded her recollection without words. I wanted her to relive the memory of
what I had done to her. Only me.
I worked fast and her fingers lay back against my warm skin. Nails made tender
impressions on my shoulder. She could mark me. I wouldn’t care. She’d already scarred my
“Cain?” she questioned, but I knew the answer. She was ready to burst. Her tender
fruit had been plucked and she craved what came next. That first bite. The sound of my
name almost undid me, but it would take more than that for me to be satisfied. For her, the
flick of my thumb unleashed her. Nails burrowed deep, her eyes shuddered closed, and her
head tipped back. She clenched hard, squeezing my hand between her thighs. My dick
practically danced, but I had been the king of denial. I would not have her yet. This was only
As my attention slowed, and I spread fingers through folds so wet they wept, my
“Tell me you remember?” I pleaded. My heart fell to my stomach as I held my
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.”
I pulled back in surprise, my eyes widened. My expression had to betray a strange
“I’ll never forget,” she whispered, averting her eyes as she looked down at her
raised skirt and my retreating hand. She pushed the material downward hastily then shoved
my wrist away from her.
“I’ll never forget…that you’re an asshole.” Propelled backward as she braced
against my chest, I stumbled in surprise at her use of profanity. My girl didn’t swear, but the
venom in her voice proved she’d changed. My sweet temptation was tainted by the poison of
me. What I’d done to her. I let her escape as her words sliced through me. I was an asshole.
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