Kandace “Kiki” King lives a dream life. Rising above the ashes of a neglected childhood, she’s graduated from a prestigious Seattle university to obtain her pre-law degree. Her best friend, Faren, has overcome tragedy and found her happily ever after.
Kiki’s not looking for love.
Love has other plans. After Thorn’s revelation about the ties of their past, Kiki feels as though she’s been set adrift. When Mick McKenna’s billionaire friend shows interest, she dismisses him. Her exotic dancing paid for her lifestyle. What does Chet Sinclair know about sacrifice and hard work?
Until they discover a similar appetite. For the first time in her life, Kiki feels helpless against the pull of a sexuality she doesn’t understand, couldn’t anticipate, yet hungers for. Will she allow herself to succumb to what Chet Sinclair offers?
Or is the oath she made to herself in danger of being broken?
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About the Author
Marata Eros (a pen name for Tamara Rose Blodgett), is the NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY bestselling author of A Terrible Love. Marata has more than thirty-five titles in multiple genres including Dark Fantasy, Dark Romance as well as her highly successful Dark Erotica series.
Marata lives in South Dakota with her husband, children and fur kids. She is an ardent reader of many genres. Tamara enjoys interacting with her readers via Twitter, blog and newsletter as often as possible. Please stop by and say hi :)
“I like this Chet.” My finger touches the tip of his nose.
His expression freezes.
“What Chet?” he asks neutrally.
“This one,” I say softly, touching his arm lightly as he stands.
He doesn't respond, quickly drying himself.
I blush at his flaccid penis. That his tube of love did those things to me... seems inconceivable, but Chet has the moves. Boy, does he.
He strides around my small condo, picking up trousers, socks, underwear, and the cufflinks he'd left behind.
“Ah,” he says when he plucks them off the entrance table. “I wondered where they'd gone off to.” He lifts them with his fingers then loosely closes his fist around them.
“You put them there when we were christening the wall,” I say, my voice as droll as they come.
My cell dings between us on the kitchen table. I don't move to answer, but Chet does.
I go to intercept, but I’m too late.
Chet scoops it up, frowning at whatever he sees on the screen.
But why should I feel bad? I mean, he's got Chloe for shit's sake. And Ax and I—we're nothing.
Though it could be something.
I bite my lip, and Chet's eyes zero in on my mauling of the soft flesh. I let it plop out.
“Who is Ax?”
I lift a naked shoulder, my boob jiggling a little from the motion. Chet's eyes flick to my breast then back to my eyes.
His eyebrow cocks. “Clearly.”
The silence has words.
“He's a guy I was friends with in the projects,” I say.
Chet pulls a face. “Projects?”
Right, rich boy doesn't know the term. “Yʼknow, slums.” I sound a little more harsh than I mean to. Try as I might, I can't wash the dirt off the word.
“I see.” Chet's gaze doesn't hold the condemnation I think it will. It's neutral.
I try not to be defensive about my past. I can't help my birthing circumstance, my old hood, my stripping to pay for school at Udub—none of it. It's my past. But knowing all that shit doesn't make me feel any less self-conscious.
I inhale deeply, poised to speak, but Chet holds up a hand. “I'm not interested in an explanation of your background.”
I see red, literally. He gets a load of my pissed off expression, no doubt.
Chet rakes his longish hair back from his forehead. “What I mean is that I do want to know you, were you come from. However, I don't want you to feel you're lesser for it.”
I don't cry, but my throat feels as if a fist is crammed inside it. Something tells me I've misunderstood Chet....