Bibliophile: a person who collects or has a great love of books
In the meantime, I’m going to ignore the fact that we’re becoming friends. And I’m definitely going to pretend he’s not turning into the object of my…umm, dirty fantasies. That’s not happening. Not even a little. Because the minute I clapped eyes on him I knew he was nothing but trouble.
He cups the fruit in his palm, then brings it near my chest. I draw a quick breath, then flick my hair off my shoulders. “By the way,” he says, “I like your hair up, but I fucking love it down.” Dead. I am dead from desire. Before I can reply—I’m honestly not sure I can form intelligible words—he rubs his other hand over the rind. “See, you want to find the one that’s ripe and”—he pauses and turns his face to meet my gaze, his dark eyes holding mine—“ready to eat.” A shudder hijacks my body. “Is that so?” I don’t need a tutorial in picking avocados. Please. I know how to pick them just fine. But I want his lesson. Want to hear his voice. Watch those hands move. Feel him slide closer. “It’ll feel slightly soft, and it’ll yield to just the right amount of gentle pressure.” And that pressure builds between my legs, an insistent throb. “How do you tell if it’s enough pressure?” He pushes a thumb against the flesh of the fruit, making a husky hum low in his throat. “Just like that. See how it responds?” “How’s it responding?” He turns, angling his body nearer to me, his dark eyes shining with desire as he roams them over my face, my hair, my breasts. “Just the way I like it.”
Burying the hatchet wasn’t an option in my family. Even if I wanted to, which I didn’t, it wasn’t allowed. My dad would disown me completely and make me change my last name before he ever forgave a Russo.
My friends used to tell me ‘What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’ Clearly, they lied because a few months later, I found out my one-night stand was pregnant.
She found herself on the steps of St. Michael's seeking shelter, what she didn't expect was temptation so sharp and sweet concealed beneath one snow-white collar. He rescued her from rock bottom, desperate people squeezed together by the desperate cracks of life, but their relationship was never innocent. The thinly-veiled attraction combustible, magnetism so explosive it rattles the very foundations of their belief. But can their unholy love story withstand the fall?
I was given a second chance with the one who’d left his mark on me. All I hoped was that somehow I’d leave a mark on his soul, too.
Until I meet her - She’s the awakening I desperately need, but one I’m not sure I deserve. Then I met him – He’s flawed in the same ways. Broken in the same places. Scared of the same things. He looks at me like I’m his salvation. And I want to be, but an open heart means risking a broken one.
My friends used to tell me ‘What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’ Clearly, they lied because a few months later, I found out my one-night stand was pregnant.
Bitter Rival is a modern day Romeo and Juliet, except that this Romeo and Juliet, don't die at the end!
Yet the more I’m around her, the less I care about finding my perfect match. Because it might be right in front of me.
Confessions of a Bibliophile 