Big. Strong. Really good with his hands.
Great at fitting into tight spaces.
No job too hard. No job too dirty.
No stopping him once he"s unchained"
The Marines made me tough. Prison hardened me. Five long years I"ve been away"chained up like a beast without knowing the touch of a woman, serving time for a crime I didn"t commit.
I"m out now, and the proud owner of Sofa King Movers. I"m supposed to keep my head down and play nice, but that"s before I lay eyes on her.
Jillian Lafayette. Tempting, beautiful, and very off-limits. But five years does something to a man. It makes him hungry. It makes him crazy, driven, obsessed. And when I catch her being a bad girl with her hands where they don"t belong"
Oh, there"ll be no stopping me from claiming what"s mine and showing her just how hard I can be.
I know she"s a client. And her shithead of an ex-husband has mob ties I can"t pretend aren"t there. But one look and I"m addicted. One taste, and I know she"s mine.
Mine to protect. Mine to keep safe.
"Mine to keep for all for myself.
Five years is a long time. Jillian"s let the leash off the beast, and once I get my dirty hands on her, there"ll be no stopping me from taking it all.
Warning: this one is ridiculously over-the-top and complete and utter fantasy at its finest. Seriously, if you"re looking for realism and long, drawn-out falling-in-love, this ain"t it. This is page-one insta-love. This is wild, reckless, hot as hell, and SO much fun.
Go ahead. Say the title out loud and have a giggle. Then get ready for some serious freaking heat.
As with all my books, this standalone novella is safe, with no cheating, and a HEA guaranteed.Books by Author:Madison Faye Books
Muscles ripple, clenching, tightening. I can see the sweat running down his sun-bronzed skin, trickling in little rivulets down between the bulges of his biceps. His arm raises, pushing his fingers through his dark hair before suddenly, he reaches for the hem of his white t-shirt. He peels it off, and my eyes go wide as he pulls it off of his head and tosses it aside.
I swallow, my skin prickling with heat as my eyes drink him in.
His body looks like it was carved out of marble " bronzed, chiseled muscles that ripple as he moves. That thick, powerful chest, those abs like something off a freaking billboard.
God, he"s so fucking hot.
He stretches, crossing one arm over his chest and pulling before switching it up for the other. It"s hot as hell outside in the scorching California sun, but even with the AC on in here, I can feel that heat too. But it"s all from him.
I swallow again, shifting, squeezing my thighs together as I peer out through the master bedroom window at him. The curtains are half pulled shut, and I"m standing here like a total creep, totally ogling the crazy hot mover who"s finishing up loading my belongings onto the moving truck. I went out for a run when they started, and when I got back, since they were done with the upstairs, I took a shower and started to get dressed. I got as far as underwear and a robe before I made the mistake of glancing out the window to see him.
His name is Kane. Kane Hawks, and it"s his company that"s moving me out today"Sofa King Movers. My eyes draw away from the gorgeous demigod with the rippling abs for one second, darting to the side of the truck to see the big red logo emblazoned on the side of it.
Sofa King, huh" I blush, nibbling at my bottom lip and raking my teeth over it as my eyes go back to mentally undressing the rest of Kane.
He"s so fucking SOMETHING, that"s for damn sure.
I blush deeper, the heat blooming inside of me as he turns and lifts a box from the lawn next to the pool in the backyard. Good lord, he picks it up like it weighs nothing at all, even though I know for a fact it"s stuffed full of my books and heavy as hell. He turns, hefting the box effortlessly as he marches over to the truck, and I squeeze my thighs together again, feeling the heat pool between them.
In my head, he"s carrying me away in those big, "just tear my clothes off" arms of his.
"And trust me, I could use some carrying away.
I turn away for a second as he disappears up the ramp into the back of the moving truck. I glance over the half-empty bedroom and scowl.
Yep, I won"t be missing this place. Or any part of this house. Or any part of this life.
I bring my hands together, my right rubbing the finger of the left hand that"s been so used to the ring for these past four years. I scowl, my eyes narrowing as I purse my lips.
Four fucking years, wasted. Given up. Stolen from me. Four years in this little well-manicured, pristine, rich little prison, married to Jim.
I was twenty-two when my parents basically sold me off to Jim Santori. Cruel, weasely, awful, sadistic, prickish Jim Santori. But also rich Jim Santori. Jim"s a "producer" in the Hollywood scene, which basically means he funds awful movies and then sues the studio when they inevitably sink for his money back plus interest. But asshole or not, he"s connected, and rich. And when you come from the world I do, rich and connected are the only real things you"re looking for when you"re looking to marry off your daughter, apparently.
There was never any love between my ex and me. Trust me, none. Barely any intimacy either, which is just freaking fine with me, believe me on that. Jim decided early on I "wasn"t his type, sexually." Any other guy, and that might have broken my heart or given me a complex. With Jim, it gave me a golden ticket out of having to put out.
The big "D" word " divorce, was something I threw around early on, but Jim had shut that down quick. See it seemed he needed my father"s connections just as much as my father needed his. Which meant us splitting up was out of the question. It also meant Jim screwing around was par for the course. But me" Yeah, right. Forget it. The asshole kept me under almost constant watch, warning me about the "consequences" should he find out I"d had any dalliances with another man. All while he was out screwing a different c-list actress every other night of the week.