New Adult Dark Romance
Date Published: 9/3/2019
“Let me,” he says, voice low, his hand running up my thigh.
“You hate me,” I whisper, knees trembling.
He smiles against my throat. “I don’t need to love you for this, Riley. Let me.”
Love and hate are merely two sides of the same coin. And I hate Riley Larson.
She's responsible for my little brother's death. She played us both, all those years ago. And she drove him to the edge.
I've spent all this time avoiding her, loathing her, wishing to get her back for what she did.
And now, she's back in my city.
And finally, I can get vengeance for my brother.
She did always like to be scared.
No cliffhanger, can be read as a stand-alone. Dark romance, only suitable for those 18+.
I touched her.
I can still feel her throat under my hand, even though she’s long gone. With any luck, she’ll be on a plane back to the States. Maybe already there by now, because it’s nearly midnight. The bass downstairs from Dad’s annual summer party is pumping, and people are drunk as hell, acting sloppy, and I’m in my old bedroom, and I know Mom is in hers, too.
I don’t know why Dad throws this party.
Actually, I do know. It comes with owning half of the real estate market in Toronto and wanting to show off what that means. I’ll be leaving in the morning, of course. I only came for Mom. I don’t give a fuck about Dad, just as he never gave a fuck about Jack.
She thinks I don’t know.
She thinks I don’t know the scheme she cooked up with my dad. She thinks I don’t know he pushed her to me, but I do. What I don’t understand is what he gave her as an incentive. She seemed to really love Jack. They seemed happy together. And yeah, sure, I thought she was beautiful—she still is, if I’m trying to be honest with myself—but I was happy for Jack.
My throat feels tight.
I shake out my hands, trying to get the feel of her off of my skin. It sickens me that when my hand was on her throat, when that fear slid into her eyes, I felt good. Not just because her life was, quite literally, in my hands, but because…
I shake my head and lay back in bed, tapping my fist to my mouth and closing my eyes. I can’t think about her. In the three years since Jack died, I’ve tried so hard not to think about her. When I do, it eats me alive. Knowing that, even though I blame her, and even though, eventually, I’m going to hurt her as bad as she’s hurt me, it was my fault too.
I fell for her.
About the Author
K is an author of dark romance living in Toronto. She enjoys iced coffee, hot men, and everything in black. To follow K and her adventures in dark delights, head to AuthorKVRose.com, or find her on Facebook at facebook.com/authorkvrose.
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