After an unexpected ceiling collapse sends her apartment into chaos, Madelaine Grayson ends up living with her brother - and dangerously close to his tattooed, way-too-charming roommate. He's off-limits... but resisting him might be impossible. *** When Madelaine Grayson's bathroom ceiling caves in, it's not just drywall that crumbles. It's her entire world. Forced to move in with her brother, she finds herself swept up in the chaos of his new protective attitude - especially when it comes to his tattooed roommate, Noah Laurier. Noah is the epitome of perfection: sweet, hot, and embedded into every thought Madelaine has. But he's forbidden, and the closer she gets, the harder he is to resist. Well... what her brother doesn't know can't hurt him, right? *** "Matt's sister, I presume?" He walks towards the couch and my eyes widen. He's tall. I thought I was tall but this man could tower me, and when he reaches a hand towards me, there's an intricate clock tattooed on the back of his hand and his fingers have bones tattooed over them. This man is not human. He's tall and angular and dripping with sex appeal. This man is hot. Capital H, capital O, capital T. I don't think I've ever seen a human being so attractive. All I can think about as I force myself to keep my eyes on the screen is the feel of his jaw beneath my hand, and it takes everything in me not to look

𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. . . . . . . . . . . We've all heard the tales of good and bad, the tales of innocent deceit and her hero, the tales that despite their nature, show us the beauty in contrast. But it's the tales of pure evil that get swept under the rug. The tales of deception, where cruelty is rewarded. The tales that have you questioning who the real villain of the story is. There's a simple philosophy to most thing in life; two wrongs 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 make a right. So what ensues when you put two of the worst kinds of people together? Loyalties transfer, lines blur, and hatred ignites complete chaos. She's cunning. 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴. She's dangerous. 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴. She's evil. 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦. Or so that's what we're told. The devil is always worse. But maybe, just maybe, she's the devil in disguise, playing his advocate... . . . . . . . . . . - 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 - 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 - 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. -

Running from hell isnʼt easy. Especially when someoneʼs dragging you back down into it. Belligerent, brash and always in shades of black, Freya is hardly a lady. Hidden away by her father, sheʼs lived a normal life despite being born into the dark waters of New Yorkʼs underworld. Heʼs cold, cruel and calculating, with a proclivity for destruction. Feared by even Made Men, Torren is the boss of the stateʼs most leachorous crime syndicate. Freya hates his crudity and possessiveness, but she canʼt deny the way her breath hitches at his rough touch, the deep timbre of his voice, and his dark, heated gaze. Torren hates her disobedience, her recklessness, and her chaos. To him, sheʼs only something to be tamed. And after he slips a ring on her hand, snatching away her future, she makes only one vow---to become his biggest torment.

❝Stop judging me so hard, Mr. Jeon. People have 𝘴𝘦𝘹. Get over it!❞ "I'm not judging you; I'm judging him," his dark voice went traveling down your sweet panties. "He came in two minutes." "So?" Hot embarrassment. That's what is on your face. "I can fuck way better than that." He casually cleaned his firearm before putting it back in the holster. His formal shirt stretched over his muscular pecs, the on-guard position, and his always attentive eyes. Your bodyguard's sex appeal ran miles, and you had never not noticed. He made you feel hot. One wrong move from anyone towards you, and he looked like he would break and skewer limbs. You felt so...𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙. So cared for. So his. "No one cares about how you fuck," you shoot back. He drops his eyes, a swishing glance at your body. Emotions hardly betrayed his face. He assessed me like he could see my body and feel me. Break down the actions of my young body and read them like an open book. "Your nipples tell a different story, babydoll."