17+ There’s something totally inconvenient about falling for your best friend’s brother. Especially when he’s turned into a pompous, arrogant, albeit annoyingly sexy a-hole that you’d like to punch or kiss to death at any given moment.
Published: March 22nd, 2016
There’s something totally inconvenient about falling for your best friend’s brother. Especially when he’s turned into a pompous, arrogant, albeit annoyingly sexy a-hole that you’d like to punch or kiss to death at any given moment.
The summer she turned eighteen, Jazz Frazer accidentally lost her heart to Joey Butler, after a favor that blurred the lines from friends to lovers.
For three years they’ve pretended there’s nothing between them anymore. Jazz is finally ready to move on with the rest of her life. She’s looking forward to the end of college and fulfilling her dream of travelling the world. She’s determined that experiences and relationships will be fun, casual and easy. After all, she learned the hard way that men just don’t stick around anyway. But when her best friend gets herself into a relationship with a celebrity, Jazz has to do the one thing she never thought she’d do, call Joey and ask for help.
Repeatedly thrown together, Jazz tries everything she can to protect her heart and not fall back in love with Joey. But when Joey finally admits that Jazz is the one he’s always wanted, all bets are off.
Contemporary, friends to lovers, second chance romance.
The Summer I turned 18
Joey shook his head. “This is a really fucking bad idea,” he muttered before leaning down and taking my mouth with his.
My heart raced.
He moved in front of me. His hand slid into my hair behind my head and his lower body connected with mine, pressing me against the railing.
My arms skated up his biceps to his hard shoulders until they grasped at his neck.
I was terrified he’d suddenly raise his head and stop kissing me. The feel of him against me, against my body, the heat of his mouth, the skin of his neck under my fingers was like what I imagined a hit of ecstasy felt like. It was sudden and overwhelming and euphoric. I let out a low moan of need, my mouth opening under his. God, yes.
I licked my bottom lip. Please let him not stop, I want more. I leaned up and nipped at his mouth.
He let out a shallow breath that caught. “A really, really bad idea,” he murmured before his mouth was on mine again. His tongue licked into me. His hands couldn’t seem to find where to hold me as they moved from my hair, to my back, to my face. He held my face, angling my mouth to suit him. Jesus. My body strained against his without me even meaning to. I felt his erection thick and heavy between us. Holy shit. Yes. I pressed closer. Damn, he tasted good. I kissed him back with everything I had like I could imprint the taste and feel of him on me forever.
His mouth pulled from mine, his wet lips and hot breath skating to my ear and down my neck. I held his head, my fingers slipping into his silky hair.
“But really, really … really good,” I whispered, gasping as his teeth and tongue worked down my neck. The sound of his ragged breathing almost did me in as much as the feel of it against my skin.
“Fuck,” he murmured, his tone tortured as if he had no will against what he was doing.
An aching and relentless need had taken root low in my belly. The urge to open my legs and wrap them around him, seeking relief was almost becoming tunnel-like. I could barely think. How had a simple kiss moved from hot to … this … in less than two minutes? This was no kiss for anyone’s benefit. This was no favor. This was pure, raw, unadulterated want. This was what I wanted sex to feel like. This was not even close to how it felt when Chase kissed me. Chase was definitely the wrong choice. Joey. I wanted this with Joey. I wanted him to be my first. The sudden image of him naked on me, my legs wrapped around him as he kissed me like this, went off like a lust-bomb in my stomach and I whimpered—a strange tortured sound.
Fisting my hands in his hair, I pulled his face back to mine. His hips rocked against me, and his tongue sank into my mouth. We kissed, and we kissed. It was like we couldn’t stop. He became my air, and I thought I’d rather die kissing him than ever breathe again.
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About the author:
Natasha grew up in South Africa, Belgium and England. She now lives and writes full-time in the USA.
Her work is available in English, Italian, Turkish, German, and Indonesian.
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