Never trust a man who says, "Trust me."
Jess.
As soon as I saw him, I knew I was in too deep. He's a gentleman criminal. A cold-blooded villain. Half the city's terrified of him and the other's on his payroll. Now his sights are set on me... but I can't let him have me, no matter how much I'm drawn to him. I can't let myself fall.
I came to London to put things right, not lose my heart to a dangerous crimelord. He says he won't hurt me... but how can I trust a man like him?
Dean.
I'm in the thick of the biggest gang war London's ever seen: Russian mobsters on one side of me, crooked police on the other. Then she appears and changes everything. She makes me feel things I've never felt before and can't allow myself to feel now. But already she's closer to me than anyone has ever been... and I'm starting to suspect she has a secret that could destroy us both.
From the moment I saw her I knew I needed her, naked and moaning under me, but I can't afford to give in to that need. Can't afford to care.
Too many lives depend on it, including hers.
Trust: A steamy, edge-of-the-seat romantic suspense thriller from the author of Winner Takes All and Black Widow.
I turned to him and he was looking at me, something in his eyes.
He put a hand to my cheek, and for a moment I thought he was going to try to clean any remaining blood away, but then...
His touch. It was gentle, almost imperceptible. Fingertips on my cheek.
His hand moved to cup my jaw, forefinger against the lobe of my ear, a sudden, electrifying touch as his fingertip tugged on my earrings. My response surprised me, my sensitivity unnaturally heightened.
The adrenaline thing, I realized. Was this the fight or flight phenomenon Dean had referred to earlier? Coming down from the adrenaline rush, the aftermath of danger... he’d said it heightened everything: responses and needs.
He kissed me.
His lips tasted of metal, that coppery tang of blood.
His hand slipped round to the side of my head, fingers sliding deep into my hair, gripping and steering me, as his tongue pressed, almost delicately, between my lips.
I pulled away.
I wasn’t ready for this. Wasn’t ready for him. A man like him.
His hand fell away from my head, knuckles brushing against my thigh. He straightened, moved back from me.
Light flashed in from outside, another car’s headlight beam sweeping across us. Our limo was following the convoluted road through this old industrial estate, one in a line of dark cars heading away from the fight.
In that arc of light I saw the tension in Dean’s jaws, the dark flash of his look. He clearly wasn’t accustomed to being turned down.
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French
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Abdelaziz GADGAD
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Mazzani Anna
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Natacha Moreira
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by L. M. Gutéz
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Author review: Speedy, efficient, and lovely to work with. Recommended! |
