In the follow-up to Everything I Left Unsaid and The Truth About Him, a beautiful con artist plays with fire when she holds a dangerously sexy motorcycle club president hostage.
I had him under lock and key. He was my prisoner. Totally at my mercy. But I was the one captivated. Enthralled. Doing everything he asked of me until I didn’t know who was in control anymore.
And I didn’t care.
“You kidnapping me?”
“Only a little.”
I have heard amazing things about the first two books in this series so I couldn’t wait to read I Everything I Left Unsaid. I did NOT feel lost reading this book even though I had not read the first two books. Max and June/Olivia are two incredible characters , and the writing is crisp, clean, intense and INCREDIBLY sexy.
June has a sister who is being held against her will by a cult. She dreams up a wild plan to rescue her which does not go according to plan and she ends up wounding and kidnapping Max, a dangerous MC President. Olivia is crazy about Max but he is a very dangerous man and can’t be trusted. She brings him to her estranged aunt’s house to recuperate from his wounds. The scenes in Florida at Aunt Fern’s condo are priceless. And the slow burn starts to build between Olivia and Max, both damaged people who have led pretty sad and lonely lives.
”Mutual assured destruction. You and I have sex, get involved in that way…both us burn. Both of us. We’ll tear each other apart until there’s nothing left to walk away from.”
Olivia is a loner and doesn’t dare dream of ever being happy. She makes sure to sabotage anything good that comes into her life. The story itself is gritty, somewhat dark and definitely NOT your typical contemporary romance. There is no insta-love, and it takes quite a while for those two to get together. This book is VERY steamy and includes a sexy F/F scene that is incredibly hot. But the action, the scenes between Max and Olivia and the swoony scenes that eventually happened between Max and Olivia were all absolutely perfect. There is a wonderful Epilogue and I loved the conclusion that Ms. O’Keefe gave to these very troubled characters.
”Save your act for other people. The lies and the show – I don’t want it. I want you. Fucked up and crazy. I want you.”
(ARC provided by the author in return for an honest review.)
I wasn’t watching him sleep. I was thinking. I was formulating a plan. An argument that would sway him, that would make him see things my way.
The tiny, white bikini I wore was a visual aid.
Because if there were any breaks I caught in this life, they were a rocking metabolism and Aunt Fern’s rack. I made this cheap, white bikini look better than it should.
Sitting on the dresser, I licked yogurt from a spoon and tried to think of what was going to really sway a guy like Max. What was going to make him give up on revenge and instead help me get my sister free.
He was sprawled across the bed, the sheets pulled up to his waist with his injured leg kicked out. Every once in a while he jerked, like the dream he was having had teeth, and the handcuffs rattled against the bed.
This was kidnapping.
I could add that to the list of shit I never thought I’d do.
Finally he stirred in earnest and I held my breath. Trying not be nervous. Trying not to show him that I was scared. Max was a wild animal and if he sensed fear he’d come after me.
He lifted his head off the mattress, his black hair, wild around his head. That spot on his scalp with the stitches was so pink and wounded. Tender. The only soft thing about him. The rest of him, his chest and arms, was rawhide and muscle and grit covered with bright tattoos. And technicolor bruises.
Max was whittled down to the bone. No excess. I recognized it because I felt exactly the same way. Like there was nothing to feed me.
If we weren’t in this stupid situation, we might have been friends. Lovers for as long as we could make it work because we were the same kind of people. The same sort of wild and alone.
“Joan?” His voice was rough and deep. He lifted his hands to rub his eyes but the handcuffs stopped him.
“Morning, Max.” I licked my spoon. “How are you feeling?”
“I’d feel a whole let better if you let me go.”
“Not going to happen.”
He lifted his free arm. Stretched. Made a fist out of his hand and then relaxed it. “What’s your end game here, Joan? You’re going to keep me locked up here forever?”
“Only until you give up on this revenge idea.” And agree to my plan.
“Not going to happen,” he parroted my words back at me.
“How’s the head?” I asked.
He shifted in the bed and only barely winced. “Better.”
Good. This was . . . good.
“You think you could eat some soup without spilling it all over yourself?”
“I think I could teach you a lesson about having a smart mouth.”
I hummed in my throat as if disappointed in him and then dug up another spoonful of yogurt and put it in my mouth. He watched every motion. My tongue. My hands. He missed nothing.
And maybe it was because he was imagining what it would be like to kill me.
But I preferred to think he was wondering what it would be like to fuck me.
It was a long shot considering his injury, the fever, his being handcuffed to the bed. But I was banking on him being a dude.
And the white bikini. I was banking on the white bikini pretty hard.
“What are you doing?”
He lifted his eyebrows at me and slowly pushed himself up farther up the bed. He leaned against the cast-iron headboard, exposing all of his skin, which was covered in dark tattoos. He looked like some kind of leopard. Some sleek animal that if unchained would tear me apart.
He would tear me apart.
And I could not wait.
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