"Don't cry." I gasped. Leon. He stood a few feet away, watching me with that same intense stare. Those dark monolid eyes. I was terrified of him. And it wasn't because he was riddled with an ink sleeve running up his right arm, lip, ear, eyebrow piercings that glinted against his olive casted skin. Or even the fact that he was very tall and muscular. It was because his eyes were so intense they made my heart skip a beat. Everything about him screamed danger up close, but his presence felt... steady. Secure. My pulse continued to pound loudly in my ears. The way he was looking at me now, It made my skin burn in an entirely new way. He crouched slightly, his dark gaze locking onto mine. And then-so effortlessly, so intimately-his thumb brushed against my cheek, wiping away a stray tear. I flinched. Not from fear. From something else entirely. His touch was fire. "They shouldn't have said those things." His voice was softer now, a quiet rumble that slid over my skin like silk, a slight accent peaking through the vowels. "They don't know how to approach you. You intimidate them." I blinked. "Me?" His lips twitched slightly, as if amused by my confusion. Then-gently, the heat of his palm curled around mine, grounding, consuming, and he helped me to my feet. And then his gaze wandered. Slowly. Deliberately. Down my body. "They don't know how to appreciate a woman's body, so they make jokes." He says. Then- "If I were to have you," he murmured, voice impossibly deep, "I'd worship your body. Make you realize how beautiful you are until it's branded into your mind. Until one day, you'll look in the mirror and see what I see." My breath hitched. We stood there in silence. Then, he turned, walking toward the door, leaving me standing there, breathless, trembling, changed.

An arranged marriage was never what I wanted but it seemed to be what life was dishing out to me, and to make it worse, my husband-to-be preferred women on the ...lighter side. And by the lighter side, I mean lighter side of the scale and skin color. #1Bwwm #2Interracial Book 1 of the Unwanted Series PS: There are typos in this work, mostly because autocorrect always puts in the most ridiculous wrong things and I always miss despite reading them before posting, until I have posted and read over and over again. There's also the issue of timelines that don't add up and wrong names. I'm currently editing it in a new document. I hope it will be better. FP: 2017 C:2019

after a prank gone terribly wrong, hayden jones is sent across country to caldwell academy, a school for the bitchy, the dangerous and the rebellious. and if that wasn't bad enough, it becomes much worse when hayden is accidentally put in the male dormitory, landing her in a room with the school's notorious heartbreaker, chase everett. [not edited...like at all]

Fate is a fickle, miserable thing. One boy trying to run away from its clutches. One girl trying to gather all its broken pieces together. 𝗔𝗹𝗲𝘅𝗶𝘀 𝗜𝗿𝘄𝗶𝗻 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗴𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗿𝘆 is one breath away from decking the next person who even so much as mentions her parents' names in front of her. Moving back to her small, conservative hometown (where your business was everybody else's business too) was a mistake--a mistake she'd make again if only that would get her little brother to not hate her anymore. There wasn't anything else there for her anymore. The one constant in her life had run away; her old life was gone. All that she had, 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵. Except for her baby brother who refuses to even talk to her. And the secrets of her past that always just stayed. 𝗕𝗹𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗠𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘄𝘀 is two seconds away from telling his father to fuck himself in the jail cell he's still stuck behind. His father's men are after him, because they never have anything better to do, and Blake's too much of a patient man to admit this but, he's getting tired of running. He's rarely ever given second chances, though--bad guys never get that luxury. And he hadn't meant to steal. Not really. But now that he's battered and bruised, with an address scribbled on the postcard he'd in fact 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯, he follows it to the one person who might still be willing to stop him before he masochistically gives in to his father again. Because who's to say his past won't catch up? It always does. . . . . . Text copyright © Crystal7016 ™ 2024