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160 pages, Paperback
First published November 22, 2016


“He craved a chase. She craved the weight of this beast crashing down on her when he got his way.”
“Why are you with me?” she asked, careful to sound curious and not defensive.
His answer came at once. “The way you make me feel.”






A gash at his temple opened and stung but he didn’t care. Just let the heat soften his muscles, wash the blood and sweat and grime down the drain. Wash his fight persona away and make room for another beast entirely. A man capable of things few women would welcome. A man capable of exactly what Laurel wanted, tonight.





"I'm gonna tell you something right now, and I want you to remember it every time I'm angry with you, for as long as we're together."
"All right."
"I wouldn't be this ripped up if I didn't love you. I don't waste my time feeling pissed or hurt or let down unless the person who managed to make me feel it actually matters to me."
...he was a wolf, and she the deer who'd just twitched. He craved a chase. She craved the weight of this beast crashing down on her when he got his way.
He was everything - a hard cock, a gorgeous body, the man who shocked and comforted and irked and supported her, all of it feeling so starkly plain, sweet and obscene, at once a Valentine and pornography.




“Whether he sought pleasure or pain, he gave himself completely. As someone who so often held herself back, Laurel found it mesmerizing.”
“Can’t be a cure unless there’s a disease, and I’d like to think my tastes are part of my appeal.”
“The gifts she gave him weren’t wrapped in satin. They were harsh and strange and not for the faint of heart.”


In the games they played, he craved brutality, but she wanted something more—a narrative. A role beyond mere victim. Flynn was happy enough coming at her like a stranger in a dark alley, but her pleasure deepened with some extra dimension worked in.

He was no damaged billionaire and this apartment was no tricked-out playroom. Their props were duct tape and rope and the cold, hard floor under Laurel’s knees, his own two hands. Gags and blindfolds were whatever shirt he might grab, and he’d bound her with a an extension cord once. This was BDSM, as furnished by Home Depot, and without most of the tiresome honorifics and other formalities he found so cheesy. He didn’t mind “Sir,”...
He didn’t want to be a woman’s master; he wanted to be her assailant.
“If you’re worried marriage is going to mellow me, next time I’ll fuck you in such disgusting ways you’ll be sprinting for the nearest confessional.”
Crazy how dabbling in such dark fantasies seemed to purge some unseen, unnamed weight from her subconscious.Definitely not what I was expecting, but I'm not complaining! Gotta love a well-written story that's sprinkled liberally with kink. :D
A no-nonsense, frequently tactless man, but under the surface possessing so much tenderness and loyalty and intuition.And Laurel was still Laurel.
The gifts she gave him weren't wrapped in satin. They were harsh and strange and not for the faint of heart.But their relationship was put to a heartbreaking test in this sequel.









