“Mom already said I could go to the dance.” Livana's voice pierced through the phone, cool and sure and just like Liv's.
By mom, she meant Mr. E's widow, Carolyn Eary, her legal guardian who raised her from birth and still provided the roof over her head.
What had started out as Liv introducing him as a family friend was now a unique, and often delicate, arrangement. He'd spent a lot of time with Carolyn in those first few months, feeling her out. When he finally revealed his identity, she was understandably skeptical of his intentions. But he'd proved himself as he'd done with Liv, and a year after he'd met Livana, Carolyn told her whom her biological parents were.
Livana knew nothing of their criminal history, but she did know how to play all three of them to get what she wanted. Carolyn was a fucking pushover. He was a drill sergeant. But Liv was the wild card.
“What did Liv say?”
“She said to ask you.”
“I didn't hear you ask.”
Even irritated, her sigh was the sweetest damned sound. “Daddy, can I please go to the dance?”
“You're too young.”
“I'm twelve!”
He dug a toothpick from his pocket and slid it into his mouth. He was done jogging for the night. Amber was in the midst of another erotic stretch and his focus was shit. “You can go, and I will chaperone.”
A long pause. “Ugh. Fine.”
Well, that was easy. Maybe she didn't realize he would be at her side the entire evening. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
He pocketed the phone and scanned the park for a spot that would offer the most privacy. When an outcrop of rocks up ahead caught his eye, he gripped Amber's hand and led her to them.
Behind the cover of a huge boulder, he pressed her against the flat surface and kissed her deeply and thoroughly. “Go to the dance with me, Mrs. Quiso.”
She answered by returning his kiss and flicking her tongue wildly and aggressively. They'd been married for two years, but every day felt like a honeymoon. He ran his hands up her spandex-clad thighs, cupped the hard muscles of her ass, and caressed the soft curves with his fingers.
Yeah, sex in a public park wasn’t the best idea for a guy who wanted to remain under the radar. But as she flexed her hips, tangled her tongue with his, and aroused every nerve-ending in his body, his only thought was Yes.
She reached for her shirt and pulled it over her head, her tits tumbling over the cage of her sports bra. Jesus. Whether in shackles and hanging naked from a tree or seconds away from losing her panties in a park, her ability to shock and awe him was infinite.
Curling her arms around his shoulders, she rose up on tiptoes to meet his gaze with bright eyes. “Still want to put a baby inside me? Fifty-percent chance you'll get another girl.”
“I'll take anything you give me.” He ground the aching ridge of his erection against the V of her thighs. “Right now, you’re going to give me something wet and tight. Turn around. Arms above your head.”
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PREVIEW OF
TORRENT BY GEMMA JAMES
BLURB
She sent an innocent man to prison. Now, eight years later, he’s returning the favor…
I’ve been obsessed with Rafe Mason since I was thirteen. The twisted part of this story is that I still want him, even now.
Now that he's holding me captive on an island.
Rafe has his reasons for doing what he's doing, and if I'm honest, I can't blame him. I’m the girl who sent him to prison for a heinous crime he didn't commit.
But now he's free and the tables have turned...now he's the one driven by obsession.
TORRENT is a new adult dark romance with disturbing themes and explicit content, including sexual scenes and violence that may offend some. Intended for mature audiences. Part one of the CONDEMNED series. This is not a stand-alone read. Approximately 43,000 words.
1. Escape
When it came to karma, I wished for skepticism. Thing was, I fully believed in karma. Something had to balance the scales, otherwise the world would tip off its axis and crash into total chaos. Thanks to my belief in supernatural balance, I had no doubt I was screwed. That was never more true than when I gripped the single piece of paper on which four words were written.
I’m coming for you.
I’d found the note tacked to my door. I didn’t question who left it, as only one person had reason to leave such a warning, and considering he’d been released from the state penitentiary three weeks ago, I couldn’t deny the evidence. I’d been agonizing over the moment when he would confront me.
When, not if.
My knees gave out, and I sank to the bed. Rain beat against the roof in a sudden onslaught, and the panes of my favorite window seat rattled. I hadn’t been home for more than a few minutes, but apparently I’d escaped inside at the most opportune time. I took the torrential tap-tap-tap and rush of wind as a sign, an omen perhaps.