"Red coated his lips, vibrant against that ivory skin. He was the devil incarnate, dressed impeccably in Armani, and I had never seen a sight more terrifying."
_________________
When diagnosed with a fatal illness at the age of twenty six, Eleanor...
Both books in this series are now available either in kindle unlimited, or on most retailers. Check the external link, or my website www.lanaskybooks.com.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Sneak peek:
"You don't appeal to me more. This pale, thin, shapeless body doesn't fucking haunt me." He found my nipple, grazing it with the tip of a fingernail until I jerked as if yanked on a string. "You mean nothing to me."
His mouth brushed mine and my lips parted. Ruthlessly, his tongue swept inside, harsh and punishing. I could feel the prickling tease of his fangs even as they protruded, catching the edge of my tongue. All the while, his body caged me in, rough through the fabric of his suit. Repelling me even while providing strength. When my knees buckled, holding on to him was the only way I managed to stay upright.
The harder he kissed me, the more my thoughts spun, senseless. There was no seductive method to this madness. Just him gripping my waist, pulling me into him, grinding his body against whatever part of me he could reach.
Until he stopped, leaving me balanced on a precipice.
"This is the part where you agree, Eleanor," he hissed, drawing me into his arms.
The interior of the suite blurred and distorted until I found myself shoved onto the bed in that emerald room, bathed in the multicolored glow of the city lights.
"This is the part where you reinforce that I couldn't possibly have any interest in fucking you." As he spoke, he tugged my legs apart, easily slipping between them.
Fabric swished and fluttered through the air, so quickly I barely registered it. His jacket. His shirt. His pants. All shed within seconds.
My eyes were still on the crumpled pieces of fabric when he slid his hand between my legs, easing the tip of a finger inside me.
"And this is the part where I pretend like you're wet for me alone," he continued as I gasped at the intrusion. "That deep down you relish what I do to your body. That you crave it. That the naïve, prudish innocence is just an act." He ventured deeper, and my nails caught at the silk beneath me, scrambling for purchase. "I convince myself every goddamn time." He groaned as my body quaked, gripping him in trembling waves. "I make myself believe it, even though I know it's a lie."
