Chapter 3
Morning After, Still Bent OverElenaI woke up to the crackle of fire and the heavy, arrogant weight of a man’s arm slung across my waist.Correction: Jax Hart’s arm. Author. Asshole. Human red flag.Also, the man whose cock I’d let rearrange my cervix the night before.I opened one eye and glanced around the room. Cabin still intact. Storm still howling outside. My dignity?MIA.The bed creaked as he stirred behind me, pressing against my back—bare chest warm, scent maddeningly male. He smelled like pine, heat, and satisfaction. Like someone who knew he’d been unforgettable.“Awake already?” His voice was sleep-rough. Teasing. The kind of voice that could unhook a bra without touching it. “Didn’t peg you for a morning person.”“Didn’t peg you for someone who talks after sex.”“Only when I’m not done.”My thighs clenched instinctively. Fuck me.He shifted closer, and I could feel him—thick, already getting hard again. MyChapter 3 Morning After, Still Bent OverElenaI woke up to the crackle of fire and the heavy, arrogant weight of a man’s arm slung across my waist.Correction: Jax Hart’s arm. Author. Asshole. Human red flag.Also, the man whose cock I’d let rearrange my cervix the night before.I opened one eye and glanced around the room. Cabin still intact. Storm still howling outside. My dignity?MIA.The bed creaked as he stirred behind me, pressing against my back—bare chest warm, scent maddeningly male. He smelled like pine, heat, and satisfaction. Like someone who knew he’d been unforgettable.“Awake already?” His voice was sleep-rough. Teasing. The kind of voice that could unhook a bra without touching it. “Didn’t peg you for a morning person.”“Didn’t peg you for someone who talks after sex.”“Only when I’m not done.”My thighs clenched instinctively. Fuck me.He shifted closer, and I could feel him—thick, already getting hard again. My
Chapter 2 Hate Me HarderElenaI didn’t mean to kiss him.That kiss wasn’t a surrender. It was a challenge.But the second Jax’s mouth crashed against mine, I knew something was over. Maybe my resolve. Maybe my dignity.Definitely my dry spell.His hands were under my shirt in seconds—rough, greedy, like he’d been waiting years to ruin me. And fuck, maybe he had.“You hate me, huh?” he muttered, teeth scraping my jaw as he pushed me down onto the bed.“I fantasize about lighting your ego on fire.”“Good.” He shoved my tank top up. “Then moan like you’re burning.”I didn’t. I whimpered.He sank his mouth over my breast, tongue flicking my nipple before he sucked it hard enough to make me gasp. My back arched. My thighs pressed together. My pride wanted to slap him. My body? It wanted him to leave handprints.“God, you’re such a mouthy little tease,” he growled against my skin. “All those red ink notes, every snarky comment—you were
PROLOGUE After a professional feud explodes at a publishing event, fiery editor Elena and smug bestselling author Jax Hart are forced to shelter in the same mountain lodge during a snowstorm. There’s only one bed. No Wi-Fi. No escape. What starts as snarling insults becomes raw, scorching hate sex in front of the fire—fast, brutal, and addictive. And Jax? He wants a new kind of release—and he’s about to write Elena into his filthiest chapter yet.“You hate me? Good. Bend over and show me how much.”Chapter 1 Just My Fucking LuckElenaI should’ve known better than to wear heels to a mountain event in January.Especially not when Jax Fucking Hart would be there.But there I was—stranded at a backwoods lodge after a canceled publishing panel, my boots packed in the wrong damn suitcase, and a blizzard moving in like karma with a vengeance.The universe didn’t just hate me. It wanted me to suffer.And it sent my least favorite man on E
Chapter 7 ClaimedThe first time I came for him, it felt like surrender.The last time?It felt like war.Not a battle I lost—but one I chose to never walk away from.Because when Dominic Vale pinned me to his penthouse window, overlooking the midnight skyline, he didn’t make love to me. He took me like he was erasing the version of me that ever lived without him.“I warned you,” he whispered against my neck, voice thick with lust and something darker, “you signed more than a contract, Maya.”His cock dragged against my folds, teasing, soaking in how wet I already was for him. From behind, he forced my palms against the glass, his other hand gripping my throat, holding me exactly where he wanted me—where I wanted to be.“You thought you were walking away after thirty days? You thought this was just business?”I couldn’t speak.Didn’t want to.Not when he shoved in deep, burying himself inside me so hard my body slammed against the win
Chapter 6 The Cage You CraveIt started with silk.Silk around my wrists. Silk over my eyes. Silk between my thighs, slick with need.Dominic Vale didn’t tie me like a man claiming his lover—he wrapped me like a predator dressing a meal.“You still think you’re here by choice, little thing?”His voice was a rasp over my shoulder, the roughness of it scraping me raw.I opened my mouth to answer, but he slipped two fingers between my lips. Not to hush me—to own me. His fingers pressed against my tongue, slow and deep, until I gagged softly.“Shh,” he murmured. “Just take what I give you.”He pulled the blindfold down tighter.And I was in the dark.Literally. Figuratively. And Emotionally.Because lately, I couldn’t tell what I wanted anymore. I hated that I loved the way he touched me. I hated the thrill that raced through my veins every time he looked at me like I was prey—and he was starving.But the moment he started whispering
Chapter 5 His Rules, My UndoingI didn’t know what morning looked like anymore.Not when my days bled into nights, and my body never stopped aching from how he used it.Dominic Vale didn’t fuck like a man—he devoured like a beast.And this morning?He didn’t let me rest.He woke me up with his mouth between my thighs, tongue relentless, eyes locked on mine like he dared me to break eye contact. When I moaned, twisting against the sheets, he only pressed my hips down harder and growled.I came so hard I cried.And when I came down from the high, chest heaving, he didn’t stop.“I said we’re not done, Maya,” he said, voice like silk stretched over razors. “You don’t come once and think it’s over. You come until I say enough.”That was how the day began.Now it was noon, and I stood at the center of his penthouse, naked again, trembling, wet, branded—waiting.He’d given me a list.A handwritten one, delivered after breakfast.