IT’S NOT A LIE IF WE BELIEVE IT’S TRUE.
That’s what Griff Foster said right after he asked me to be his wife.
Sweet, isn’t he?
Let’s be real: his proposal had nothing to do with romance. Falling in love isn’t in his DNA. With piercing blue eyes and a hard body to match, he goes through women like candy.
But he saved my life.
I promised I’d repay him. I should learn when to keep my mouth shut.
Griff needs a Mrs. Right Now, and he’s convinced I’m the perfect actress.
In case I have any doubts, there are seven badly needed zeroes on a check with my name on it to help make up my mind.
We’re totally fake. Nothing but lies.
Except the way his lips feel on mine.
Except the way his touch sets my body ablaze.
Except the way my soul aches when he looks into my eyes.
He says that without me, he loses everything.
But if I’ve got the upper hand, why does it feel like he’s in control?
There’s only one thing missing from this arrangement.
What happens to my heart when it’s over?
GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/44656622-his-little-wife-lie
That was it!
What kind of fucking game was he trying to play? I made a complete fool out of myself, then he tried to turn it around on me! No one was going to treat me like this, especially not him.
Once in my room, I raced toward the closet, grabbed my bag, and dragged it out. Fuck this place!
Tiny Me chimed in. No, no! Wait! What are you doing? The money!
“I don’t care about the money!” I yelped, clutching my fingers into fists. “Don’t you understand? I care about him!” Oh shit. No. No.
I sensed a presence in the doorway. “What did you say?”
“Stay away from me.” I spun in place, biting my lip and sputtering hate. “I’m leaving. You can’t stop me.”
He didn’t listen. Of course. I mean, why start now?
Marching right toward me, Griff continued, “You said you cared about me. Don’t try and deny it.”
Yeah, no kidding. You ass. “Of course, I do! Jesus! Do you know how many men I’ve offered my virginity to? Do you? Take a wild guess.”
Griff didn’t respond. What could he say? He already knew the answer.
I poked him in the chest. “Just one. Guess how that went over?”
Griff’s nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed. I was pissing him off. Well. Good! Now he knew how I felt!
“Move,” I snarled, edging past him.
I felt the handle of my suitcase rip free from my hand. By the time I turned to look and see what happened, he’d swept me up me in his arms, racing for the bed.
“Put me down!” I floated in his embrace until he slammed me with a thump, pinning me beneath him. Struggle was useless, but I gave it everything I had, jerking from side-to-side until the instant his lips found mine.
Oh fuck. No! Yes. Yes. Yeeessss…
The passion from his kiss ripped through my body like wildfire, reigniting the embers he left smoldering inside of me with his refusal. Griff’s pelvis pressed into me, the impossible hardness between his legs threatened to reawaken my lust into an inferno until my wits returned.
“Stop!” I gasped, breaking my mouth free. My palms went flat, shoving against his torso. “Get off of me!”
His gaze gave me the answer. Never. Griff ignored my pleas and gripped harder, making me feel he’d crush me into dust if I uttered another word. Reaching up, I clawed and scratched, digging my nails into the steel of his thick chest. But my rage only stoked him, and he groaned, his mouth invading mine again, filling it with his tongue. My resistance turned to vapor, whisps of hate floating away from me while Griff took what he wanted.
At last, he pulled away. I looked at him, my vision glassy from the struggle, each of us fighting for a breath.
“We can’t.” I exhaled. “It’s a mistake.”
Wait. That wasn’t no. Was it?
He licked his lips and sank his pelvis deeper, driving it hard between my legs. I stifled a whimper.
“You’re right,” he hummed, reaching for one of my tits, cupping it in his grasp. Uhhh. My eyes rolled back in my head, his touch had me on the verge of blackout.
“It’s the biggest mistake of all,” he warned. “No turning back. No way out.”
No way out. His words reached into my soul, giving me the answer my brain couldn’t. I don’t want one. Don’t give me one. If you do, I might take it.
Wordless, Griff moved over me, a shadow threatening the last shreds of my chastity. With my legs spread and my innocence at risk, I inched my mouth toward his lips when he whispered his final threat.
Sloan Storm pens imaginative yarns based on dominant men and the women who challenge them. As such, power plays and passion are the heart of each and every story.
The writer’s creative tendencies may drift as the mood strikes, but the essence of all tales told wind up back at the same place… the polarizing difference between the sexes.
After all, what else is there in life?
When not glued to a keyboard creating tales of whimsy, Sloan loves to talk to fans! If you want to connect, you can do it in any number of ways.
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