Love Triangle: Six Books of Torn Desire

by Willow Winters

  We’re standing only an inch apart. His eyes might as well be a fathomless night sky, deep in the city without a single star. With nothing to guide me. We stood like this in front of Medusa, and he kissed me. She watched us without judgment or fear, the same way the city watches us now.

  His head lowers. There’s not time to breathe or think.

  When his lips touch mine, there are a thousand stars lit up. I’m the one burning inside the open space of him. I’m the one made hot and raging. He dips his tongue against my lower lip, testing me, tasting me, soothing the wild heat inside with a smooth, dark movement.

  A sound comes from the door.

  It takes me a while to come back into my body from the places I’ve been. To feel the mechanics of my bones and joints and muscles. To make myself step back. When I do, I can see the door which hangs open behind Christopher.

  Sutton stands in the doorway, his blue eyes stark and cold. A lake that’s frozen over. There’s no way to explain what’s happened here, not when I don’t understand it myself. No excuses for the fact that Christopher’s hand is clenched in my hair. He releases me slowly, finger by finger. Prying himself away. That’s how it feels. He takes one step back. Another.

  I watch as he becomes the man form after the will reading. I watch as he becomes a stranger. An enemy. “You were just leaving.”

  There are razors in my chest. They turn against me, leaving only ribbons of wanting, the remains of a pointless dream. “Is that why you were kissing me? Because the only way you can touch me is if you know it means goodbye?”

  The words hit their mark, an arrow in the heart of a stone. He turns cold. “Does it matter? You have what you wanted.”

  Hurt crowds my throat. I cover it up with suspicion. “Sutton?”

  “The trust fund. It’s your money. Use it however you want. Buy a thousand goddamned butterflies.”

  He leaves me with that terrible victory, having won control of the fortune that should have been mine, having lost the man who never belonged to me. The man I’ve always wanted more than he wants me. Sutton turns sharply to give Christopher his exit, careful not to touch him. No punches thrown. That should be a relief to me. It feels like I took the hit to my stomach instead.

  I half expect Sutton to storm out of the apartment, but he stands in front of me. Stands with me in the rubble of trust around us, figurative dust floating in the air, the way we were at the library. He’s the past, he said then. Christopher’s taste is still on my tongue.

  “I shouldn’t be surprised,” Sutton says, his gaze past my shoulder, to the wall of windows beyond.

  Words crowd my throat, words of apology, but loss steals my voice. I should have learned this by now, that life couldn’t be trusted.

  That anything good was only temporary—especially men.

  I could say that I didn’t initiate this, that I didn’t come here for this. That it was Christopher who kissed me. But I didn’t stop him. And in my secret heart, I know the truth—I didn’t want to stop him. Sometimes a woman has to face a wrecking ball coming toward her with steady eyes. She knows what’s coming. That’s what I told Christopher. The library might recover. Cleopatra won’t.

  “I’m sorry.” My voice comes out raw. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  “No? After what we did in your hotel room I don’t think I had any claims of monogamy. You can kiss whoever you want.”

  Those same words might come from a man with no desire for commitment. Instead they’re filled with a dark amusement. It makes me remember the glint in his eyes when he watched Christopher take my virginity. The way his Southern charm had slipped for a moment, revealing a cunning underneath. “Whoever I want, as long as you’re in the room, pulling the strings. Is that how you like it?”

  There’s heat in those blue eyes. Betrayal and hurt, but enough heat to blaze like summer. “That’s how you liked it, too. I remember how hard you came, honey. Your beautiful thighs trembling. Wet enough to soak the sheets.”

  My body responds with suddenness, warmth spreading through my body, a wildfire in a dry forest. This isn’t the time be to be aroused. Sutton must know that. He watches me with that same cunning beneath the surface. It makes me want to toss a pebble into it, to make him ripple. “Why did you come here? Are you following me?”

  “It was only a matter of time before you came to see Christopher.”

  “That means yes.”

  “Do you want me to apologize?” He drawls the word, making it sound like a mockery. Except he should apologize for following me. And like he said, we hadn’t made any promises of monogamy, no matter how shameful I felt to be caught kissing someone else.

  Tanglewood is a blade. I’m torn in two pieces, one that loves Christopher. That’s always loved Christopher in all his terrible ambition. And one half that loves Sutton, the man of few words and dangerous trust, the man staring at me like I’m the enemy. “I don’t think you’re that concerned with what I want. This is some sort of game for you, and you’ve been playing since I first met you in the boardroom.”

  “You’re a beautiful woman. A man would be crazy not to want you.”

  “Except that’s not why you wanted me. It was a competition with Christopher.” The certainty makes my stomach turn inside out. “That’s why you pursued me from the beginning, why you invited me to the gala, why you made me the offer about the historical society.”

  Blue eyes glitter. Why have I never seen how much they look like a hard gem? A stone made beautiful and sharp. “You want to question my motives, honey? You’re the one who came storming into the office like a woman on a crusade. Looking for Christopher.”

  The words echo in the air around us. Looking for Christopher, he says while we stand in Christopher’s empty apartment. “I didn’t know,” I whisper, my throat burning. “I didn’t know that I loved him.”

  And how for me to realize it, when there’s no hope of a happy ending. No solace for me now. No permanence in a gilded world.

  Sutton gives me a small smile, this one small and true. “Honest,” he says, a little sad. “Honest to a fault.”

  It would have been impossible to choose between these two men, but sometimes love doesn’t give you a choice. The heart has its own balance sheet. It makes its own calculations. I’m the last person to find out what it decides.

  I leave the cold, sterile apartment alone, walking down concrete steps to a waiting black car. It’s little comfort that I control the trust fund, that I control my own fortune. I’m one of the richest women in the country. In the world. Money can’t buy love or trust or safety. It can’t stop a thousand pounds of forged steel when it’s already swinging toward me. It can’t make the pain disappear.

  * * *

  Thank you for reading SURVIVAL OF THE RICHEST! I hope you loved Christopher and Sutton. Find out which man wins Harper’s heart in THE EVOLUTION OF MAN, the final book in the Trust Fund duet…

  Ambitious. Intense. Irresistible.

  I never wanted to fall for a man.

  And definitely not two men.

  They tear me apart until I don’t know how I’ll ever be whole again. Until I’m not sure I want to be. How can I choose between two halves of myself?

  One-click THE EVOLUTION OF MAN now!

  And remember Blue from the Den?

  You can read his book now! Fair warning: Blue is a sexy bastard and a dirty talker.

  “Better When it Hurts is an intense and heartbreakingly beautiful story. I couldn’t read fast enough to see what would happen next with Blue and Lola. A definite 5 star read for sure!”

  ~ Jenika Snow, USA Today bestselling author

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  * * *


  I try not to scan the floor when I enter. There’s already a buzz in the air, the hunger and desperation of a strip club on Saturday night. I’m ready to earn money, ready to move my body.

  Ready to pretend Blue doesn’t bother me.

  He’s nowhere in sight, and I breathe a sigh of relief. A group of men are still gathered near the railing. They’d tipped me pretty well while I was up there, so I figure I have a good shot at a lap dance. I saunter over, my breasts barely contained in the red bikini top, my skin coated in sweat and glitter and the thick smoke of this place.

  “Nice set,” says a low voice from behind me.

  I turn to see Blue standing there, arms crossed so his muscles bulge, lids lowered in that intense way of his. Shit. “Thanks,” I say, but the only thing I’m really thankful for is that my voice doesn’t shake.

  He’s the head of security at the Grand, which should make me feel safe. Except we have a history. And he hates my guts. So there’s no affection in his eyes when they scan me up and down. No kindness in his voice when he adds, “You look great.”

  The way he says it, it sounds like a threat. He makes me feel like the scared little girl I used to be when I knew him before. And him? He’s like the big bad wolf, sizing me up before he swallows me whole.

  I force myself to shrug at him, to toss my hair. “Thanks, sweetie.”

  He circles me, surrounding me. “But then, you always look great. That’s what you like, isn’t it? Having men panting after you? Leading us along by our dicks?”

  My throat gets tight. I know that’s what people think of me. They take one look at my lipstick and my short skirt and assume the worst. God, they’re right. But it’s worse to hear it from him. Worse because he once believed in me. “Do you expect me to apologize for earning a living?”

  His lids lower. “Not for that.”

  I can’t meet his eyes. I know exactly what he wants me to apologize for. And he’ll never believe me. Even showing weakness in this game is enough to get me killed. “I don’t apologize to anyone.”

  “Of course you don’t,” he says, his voice full of loathing. “But I don’t want your words.”

  I can’t help but whisper, “What do you want?”

  That makes him smile. It’s not a nice smile. “I think you know the answer to that.”

  He wants to hurt me, to use me. He wants to fuck me. I swallow hard. “That isn’t for sale.”

  “I wasn’t planning to pay you.”

  This should be easy. Tell him no. Make him believe it. I’ve done this for a thousand men before. Somehow he’s different. Maybe because I don’t really believe it myself.

  I know he’s watching me. I know he’s hatching his plans. My heart speeds up every time I turn away from him, wondering if this is the time he’ll pounce. One of these times, he’s going to dig into me with his teeth and his claws. He’s going to hurt me, and I’m not sure I’ll survive it.

  Not tonight, though. Not now.

  I take a step away from him. “If you aren’t going to pay for my time, I think I’ll find someone who will.”

  His eyes darken. “Your call, gorgeous.”

  I hear the unspoken message beneath his words, steel under velvet. For now.

  Want to read more? Read Better When It Hurts now!

  * * *

  Five years ago Blue was the ultimate bad boy. And my first kiss.

  Now he’s back. Tougher, harder, meaner. All of it aimed at me, because I was the one who sent him away. It’s payback time. He wants his pound of flesh, and I am helpless to say no. Gabriel appears at every turn. He seems to take pleasure in watching me fall. Other times he’s the only kindness in a brutal underworld.

  “5 Angsty Love-versus-Hate Stars! Better When It Hurts sucked me in hook, line, and sinker within the first few pages.”

  – Allison, The Reading Escapade Book Blog

  “There’s one thing I can say with certainty, Skye Warren never fails to deliver a heartfelt, slightly dark, I can’t stop turning the pages story. This one is no different.”

  – Di, Twisted Sisters

  “Very Angsty 5 Star Read! This book is so compelling, you won’t be able to put it down, this is one of those books that you’ll want to save to re-read.”

  – Melissa, Books Can Take You There

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  Books by Skye Warren

  Endgame trilogy & Masterpiece Duet

  The Pawn (FREE DOWNLOAD!)

  The Knight

  The Castle

  The King

  The Queen

  Underground series

  Rough Hard Fierce (FREE DOWNLOAD!)

  Wild Dirty Secret

  Sweet

  Deep

  Stripped series

  Tough Love (FREE DOWNLOAD!)

  Love the Way You Lie

  Better When It Hurts

  Even Better

  Pretty When You Cry

  Caught for Christmas

  Hold You Against Me

  To the Ends of the Earth

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  Standalone Dangerous Romance

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  On the Way Home

  Beauty and the Beast

  Anti Hero

  Escort

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  About the Author

  Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of dangerous romance such as the Endgame trilogy. Her books have been featured in Jezebel, Buzzfeed, USA Today Happily Ever After, Glamour, and Elle Magazine. She makes her home in Texas with her loving family, sweet dogs, and evil cat.

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  A LITTLE LIKE DESTINY

  A Little Like Destiny Book One

  LISA SUZANNE

  Dedication

  To my rock man and my littlest rock star.

  Chapter One

  The floor to ceiling windows offer a once in a lifetime panorama of the glowing lights of Las Vegas Boulevard forty-seven stories below me. I should still be asleep next to the man who spent the last two hours pushing me to the brink of pleasure again and again, but if I sleep, my eyes are closed instead of drinking in the view.

  “Come back to bed.” The smooth, velvet voice I know so well wraps around me, soft and sleepy as he issues a clear demand. Something low in my belly flutters as I turn to look at him. The lights out the window are mesmerizing, but the man in the bed offers an unmatched view.

  I pull his cashmere blanket more tightly around my bare shoulders.

  I fantasize that this is my life for just a second as his breathing evens—that he wants to be with me, that he’s calling me back to bed in the penthouse suite he calls home because he wants me there, that this wasn’t just a one-night stand, that we could have a future together.

  It’s fun to pretend, but a fantasy is all it’ll ever be.

  He’s The Mark Ashton, lead singer of Vail, my favorite band…everybody’s favorite band.

  He’s the man I stare at on the pages of magazines and follow on every possible social media platform with the hope to see a tiny glimpse inside his private life. He’s the man I’ve obsessed over and lusted after for the better part of ten years—since I was in high school and Vail’s first single hit the radio.

  He’s also the man known for sleeping with a different woman every night, and I count myself fortunate that I happen to be his Saturday night special this week.

  I don’t know how I’l
l feel tomorrow, but tonight the only word that describes me is lucky.

  We’re on the top floor of a building in the center of the world-renowned Las Vegas Strip after he spent hours kissing me, touching me, showing me that the rumors about his talents beneath the sheets are true. He knows what he’s doing. He’s everything I thought he’d be, more than I could’ve imagined. He was slow and sensual with me, caring and tender. He treated me with respect even though the rules were clear from the start.

  He didn’t have to say it, exactly, but I knew the expectation the second I secured my invitation back to his place. Girls don’t go home with Mark Ashton thinking it’ll lead to anything more than one night. I wish the reality was different, but that’s not who he is and it’s not what he does.

  He’s the very definition of a rock star. He makes a woman feel special for one night before he moves onto the next one. You hear the stories all the time, but you never think of the women who get left behind. It’s such a double standard—I think of them as groupies, a little slutty, definitely a little unethical…and now I’m one of them.

  I don’t see myself that way, though. I’m not a groupie. I’m far from a slut. I pride myself on my ethics and my morals. I’m just a girl who couldn’t pass up her one shot at being with the rock star of her dreams.

  It’s hard to reconcile what I felt for him tonight with what I know about him. Now I know him on a personal level. I’ve been in his home, in his bed. He knows me on a carnal level. He’s been in my mind, my heart, my body.

  That all just makes it so much more difficult to walk out his door.

  Does he do this with every woman he brings back to his place? Does he open up and let them in the way he did with me tonight? Is that how he’s able to get so many women to sleep with him?

  Or was I somehow different?

  I want to think I’m different, but insecurity rears its ugly head. As I turn my gaze back out the window to the lights twinkling below, I remind myself I’m just one in a long line of women—just the one he brought home tonight. Just the one who will leave in the morning thinking she’s different, thinking she’s the one who can tame his womanizing ways, thinking she’s the one he’d give up everything for.