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Isabella: I was seventeen when my daddy gave me to Torch, who inked me, kissed me, then watched me walk away. I was supposed to return after I graduated, but instead I ran. Now I’m back, ready to face whatever fate awaits me. He’s probably pissed, and rightly so. It was only supposed to be a short separation, but three years have passed. I expected yelling, maybe some public humiliation. It never occurred to me he’d kiss me so deeply, so passionately that I’d be begging for more. He’ll be my first, my last, my only… because I’m his, and he’s never going to let me forget it.
Torch: For years, I’ve kept my distance, watching over the girl I claimed as my own. She wears my brand, and I know it’s only a matter of time before she comes home. I remembered a stunning young woman, but it’s a siren who walks back through my door, all luscious and curvy. There may be about thirty years between us, but fuck if I care what people think. I want her. She’s mine, and I’m going to remind her of that. I’ll take her any way I can, as often as I can, and when I’m done, she’ll never again think of walking out the door. Because what she doesn’t know is that she’s done the impossible… she’s claimed the heart of a man who didn’t think he had one. Now that she’s worked her way deep inside, I’ll rain down hell on anyone who tries to keep us apart. No one’s going to come between us, especially not the man who gave his daughter to me — not even if he has the entire cartel army on his ass.
I rinsed and shut off the water. Connor (Torch) was leaning in the bathroom doorway and my cheeks warmed when I realized he’d been watching me through the glass. He handed me a towel, and I quickly dried off, then started smoothing lotion over my body. Connor inhaled deeply, and a smile kicked up the corner of his lips.
“Whatever you bought, I like it,” he said.
When was I finished, I tossed the towel into the hamper and waited for Connor to let me pass. His gaze caressed me head to toe, lingering in his favorite places. He reached out and ran a finger down the slope of my breast before softly pinching my nipple.
“Maybe we should just stay here.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I like it when you’re naked.”
I fought not to laugh. “Connor, I can’t stay in this house every day, running around naked, just so you can look at me.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
“That’s because you’re a man. Of course, you’d think it’s a great plan. Naked women are probably your favorite thing.”
“Not women. Woman.”
I was pleased with his answer and gave him a quick kiss before pushing past him.
Short. Erotic. Sweet. Harley’s other half would probably say those words describe her, but they also describe her books. When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.
Harley Wylde is the “wilder” side of award-winning author Jessica Coulter Smith. Visit Jessica’s website at jessicacoultersmith.com or Harley’s website at harleywylde.com. Want to be notified of new releases or special discounts? Sign up for her newsletter!