“I’m done not because I’m done but because there’s nothing left of me to burn. You have it all! You’ve always had it all! I gave up everything so you could have it all! Please! God! Leave me to my nothing!”
A second chance romance with so much heart and pain. If you don't shed a tear, I will have to question as to what happened to make your heart so black. I have many favourite Kristen Ashley books, but THIS, this may be it.
So many things about this book broke my heart. And yet when it finally all came together I felt overcome with happiness. Tears flowed from both sadness and joy, for the pain they suffered and the love they found again.
Whether they were apart or together, I could feel all the emotions on their ride to a happily ever after. The passion they had for each other was undeniable and Kristen did an excellent job of making me feel that. From the flashbacks of how they fell in love the first time, to the hate sex of the present, to the bonding of their souls again and loving each other from everyday on into the future.
Most books, the hero always stands more for me. They say and do all the things that I love to read about in the fantasy romance world. But Millie, is my hero in this book. She showed incredible strength for the gifts she gave Logan. He never knew how lucky he was. HE NEVER KNEW!
I wish he had known. I wish he had a choice. But then I don't... Millie was selfless. So brave in the struggle that made her decision her new reality. My heart goes out to her for the love she gave up, never knowing or never even thinking she would ever have that kind again. Their second chance was so well deserving. It was told so beautifully and there were certain bumps in the road that I appreciated, rather than it falling smoothly into place. I wish I could tell you what that's all about, but I can't. I wish you would just read it for yourself.
Millie is definitely one of my favourite book heroines and this is hands down my favourite book of the year!
I beeped the locks and had a hand to the handle when I heard, “Lookin’ for me?”
When that deep, coarse voice came at me through the dark, my body became paralyzed, my eyes glued to my hand on the handle.
Then it kept coming at me.
“Bitch, followed you the last forty-five minutes. Reb got in touch. Told me you hit Scruff’s.” On the next, the voice was nearer. “You’re lookin’ for me. So tell me what the fuck you want so you can quit lookin’ and I can quit lookin’ at you.” Slowly, I turned, my head going back automatically because I felt him close and I knew what close to Logan meant.
I was five-seven.
He was six-one.
He towered over me, or at least that’s what it always felt like because he wasn’t only tall, he was also a big guy with a big presence.
And right then, it felt like that, especially since his big presence was an angry one.
His face was in shadows, I could barely see it.
But I could feel him.
And I could smell him.
God, I could smell him.
He didn’t wear cologne or aftershave. His scent was all his. And I remembered lying in our bed holding his pillow to me, my face shoved into the sheets, taking him in after I’d made him walk away.
His scent hadn’t changed. Not even a nuance.
Smelling it without warning felt like walking unsuspecting into the street and having a truck slam into you. And that feeling was so strong it was a wonder my body didn’t go careening through the trucks and bikes, slamming into them, shattering every bone.
He moved forward so he was in my space, the smell strengthened and my body tightened to guard against it.
“Woman, after all this time, whatever shit you gotta hand me, fuckin’ do it,” he ordered irately. “You got two seconds to spit it the fuck out. You don’t, you won’t get another chance, and you know I’ll make it that way. So this is your only shot. Take it or get in your fuckin’ car and get your ass outta my world.”
I stared into the shadows of his face, wishing with everything that I could see it.
Apparently, I did this for two seconds because Logan bit out, “Right. See nothin’s changed. Weak. Now get your ass . . .” he dipped his face to mine, “gone.”
And when he did, I got up on my toes and kissed him.
It was totally crazy.
But I also totally couldn’t help it.
He smelled so fucking good.
And he was Logan.
Close. Right there. His face in mine.
He jerked away, muttering a disgusted, “What the fuck?”
But the words or their tone didn’t penetrate.
I smelled him and I’d had a taste.
I was gone.
I lifted both hands to either side of his head, yanked him down to me, and went back in, going for it, giving it my all. Even when his fingers clenched painfully into my hips pushing them back to set me away, I held on tighter and shoved my tongue between his lips.
It touched his, just that, just a touch, and then I cried out into his mouth when I found my back slammed into my SUV.
But it wasn’t his way to get me to let him go.
His head slanted and he forced my tongue out of his mouth when his invaded mine.
And that was when I was gone.
I was already gone but right then there was nothing to me.
Nothing at all.
Except my hands on Logan’s head, his body pressing mine into my car, his smell all around us, his tongue plundering my mouth, all this exploding fire everywhere.
He drove a hand into my hair, twisting it, the pain bristling over my scalp and I cried out into his mouth again even as I arched deeper, pressed closer, willing, like it had always been, to give it all because he was Logan, he got it all.
But also because I knew I’d get it back a hundredfold.
He swayed us forward so his other arm could lock across my back and he kept at my mouth as I rolled way up on my toes, pushing deep, wrapping my arms around his neck, consumed by the kiss and not giving that first fuck.
I was ready to ride it out.
No, I needed to ride it out.
No matter where it went.
He broke away and that was when my hand went into his hair, fisting tight in protest.
“That what you want?” he growled, his voice lower, the abrasion physical, and I shivered with delight.
I wasn’t entirely certain of the question but I answered a breathy, “Yes.”
“That’s what you want,” he repeated, a statement this time, seeking confirmation.
He let me go but took my hand, his skin rough against my fingers. The feel of it back after all these years washed through me and I fancied I remembered every time, in quick succession, from the first night we met to the night before I broke it off when he’d taken my hand and guided me somewhere.
Lost in it like I’d always been lost in it, I followed blindly.
Attached to Logan, I’d go anywhere.
Even if we were walking through fire.
Kristen Ashley grew up in Brownsburg, Indiana, and has lived in Denver, Colorado, and the West Country of England. Thus she has been blessed to have friends and family around the globe. Her posse is loopy (to say the least) but loopy is good when you want to write. Kristen was raised in a house with a large and multigenerational family. They lived on a very small farm in a small town in the heartland, and Kristen grew up listening to the strains of Glenn Miller, The Everly Brothers, REO Speedwagon, and Whitesnake. Needless to say, growing up in a house full of music and love was a good way to grow up. And as she keeps growing up, it keeps getting better.
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