The man who saved her is also the man who destroyed her… or is he?
Seven years ago, I decided I wanted to be a fighter. Marcus Roma showed me how.
Six years ago, my parents died in a car accident. Marcus Roma picked me up off the ground and held me until I could stand on my own two feet.
Five years ago, I fell in love with him.
And then Marcus Roma disappeared. No warning. No explanation. Just gone.
Yesterday, he came back.
And now I have to decide who’s telling the truth, and who’s lying. Who wants something from me, and who wants…
If I guess wrong, I could lose everything. I need to think clearly. But Marcus makes that impossible. Marcus makes me weak. Marcus makes me want, in a way I’ve never felt before.
Marcus Roma will make me fall. The only question is—will he be there to catch me this time?
LIE TO ME is a new adult / adult contemporary romance novel about truth, lies, and redemption. It is not intended for readers under the age of 18.
Genre Adult Contemporary Romance
Publication Date November 7th 2013
I am so angry I can barely see, and I want him so badly it actually, physically hurts. Like the absence of him inside me aches.
I’m pulling at his shirt now, twisting it, and Marcus’s fingers are digging into my waist, pushing under the waistband of my shorts, almost like they have a mind of their own. They must, because Marcus himself is rock solid and rigid, his body riddled with tension, his muscles working with restraint.
“Lo,” he whispers, shaking his head.
“I don’t want to have to think about this anymore,” I say. “Please just help me to feel something else. Please.”
His thumb sweeps along the inside of my waistband, coming around the front, dipping low so that I shudder, even while the muscles in his shoulders pop and it looks like he’s struggling.
I want to scream.
I rip at his shirt; I go for the buttons on his jeans. I say, “I don’t want to be scared of being broken forever because you fucking broke me…”
I think he’s about to snap and finally take me when his hands move, lightning fast, and grab mine, pinning them to the table. Marcus is breathing heavy, his whole body hard and alive and pulsing between my legs as I sit on this stupid table, and when he looks at me, it’s with a fierce hunger.
“Not until you tell the truth,” he says. “Not until you say why.”
I know exactly what he means. He can still see through me.
“Because I hate that it’s you that does this to me,” I say. “Why does it have to be you? I hate that it’s you that makes me feel this. I hate you, Marcus, because I…”
Because I love him. But I can’t say it.
He’s leaning into me now, his head close to mine. He’s smelling me. I can feel his lips move along my jaw, my ear, my neck…
“Please don’t make me say the rest,” I say. “You already know the truth, you bastard.”
One hand moves to the back of my head, the other to my hip, and I can already feel the complete control he has over my body. Like he’s just deciding. Feeling it out, the way he does.
I hate him so much for making me love him.
“Marcus, I need you to—”
He doesn’t let me finish. With a growl, he threads his fingers through my hair and pulls my head back, his face hovering just above mine. For a beat his eyes pierce mine and I see what I feel echoed there: a wild need, a fierce, burning fever, the desperation of needing someone you can’t have.
And then when it happens, it happens all at once: his mouth crushing mine, his hand pushing into my shorts, beneath my underwear, his fingers sliding between my wet folds, and then his hand gripping me there. He stops for a moment, as though just wanting to establish ownership, and his tongue parts my lips savagely. I moan into his mouth and grapple at his shoulders, trying to get him to move, to just do it already, because I feel like I might burst, but he’s the one in control, and that drives me even higher. His other hand tightens its grip on my hair, and he takes what he wants, kissing me deeply until I yield to it, until I’m not thinking about anything at all.
About the Author
I love to tell stories. I especially love romance, only with all the good and sexy parts left in, and sometimes with a little kink, too. I cry at the dumbest commercials, I hide behind the nearest person during scary movies (and then make them tell me what’s going on), and I spend way too much money sending my friends gag gifts. (Amazon Prime free shipping is a dangerous, dangerous thing.)
So aside from feeling compelled to sit at my computer and make stuff up all day, I’m an otherwise normal gal navigating life, family, love and the rest. I am also a voracious, omnivorous reader, a disastrous cook (recipes are at best just suggestions), and the human who belongs to two bat%$&! insane cats.
Connect with Chloe Cox!