로그인He was told her she was "broken." He’s the monster who’ll break anyone who touched her. Elena Vance is a high-achieving woman living a lie. To appease her husband Marcus’s fragile ego, she’s dimmed her light and accepted the label of the "frigid wife." When Marcus demands she see a sex therapist to "fix" her inadequacies, Elena expects more shame. Instead, she finds Dr. Jaxon “Doc” DeLuca—the lethal, leather-clad stranger she shared a volcanic, anonymous dance with nights before. Jaxon wears two masks: by day, he’s the city’s most elite therapist; by night, he’s the brutal Enforcer for the Iron Hearts MC. He sees through Marcus’s gaslighting instantly. Elena isn't broken, she’s a woman with deep, kinky desires her husband is too weak to handle. Professional boundaries shatter as Jaxon takes Elena on as a private client, awakening a fire that threatens to consume them both. But Jaxon has a secret, he’s using Elena to investigate Marcus’s ties to a rival syndicate. Between a marriage built on lies and a doctor with blood on his hands, Elena must decide, Is Jaxon her salvation, or is she just a pawn in a deadly MC war to come? Check out Tempted By Dr. Dangerous to find out what happens next.
더 보기ElenaMy laptop has been open for two hours and I’ve written approximately four sentences worth keeping. It’s a Saturday, which used to mean something in this house. Breakfast together. Errands. The particular quiet of a weekend morning that felt like ours. Now it just means I’m working from the couch instead of the office and the television is on a channel nobody chose. I’m mid-sentence when Kristen walks in and drops onto the other couch like gravity personally invited her. She tucks her feet under herself and sighs the long, theatrical sigh of someone who wants to be asked what’s wrong. I keep typing. “Must be nice,” she says after a moment, “having so much free time to just sit around.” “Must be,” I reply, eyes on my screen. “You’d think being a homewrecker was a full-time job but here you are, completely available.” She opens her mouth. Closes it. Looks at the television. I keep typing. Marcus appears in the doorway two minutes later, dressed like he’s going somewhere, ph
ElenaMy alarm went off at seven. I turned it off and slept until eleven.I don’t feel guilty about it. The last four days have been nothing but early mornings and late nights, back to back client presentations and extended hours I invented for myself because the alternative was coming home at a reasonable time and sitting inside a house that no longer felt like mine.It worked, mostly. I came home too tired to think, showered, and slept before my brain could betray me with images I didn’t ask for. Not Marcus’s face. Not Kristen on my couch.Not Jaxon on his knees.I sit up. Press my palms into my eyes. Stop.I have successfully avoided thinking about that for three days by staying in constant motion and I am not undoing it now. I also have not responded to his last two messages, have not shown up to either of the sessions I had scheduled, and I plan to continue that streak indefinitely until I figure out what exactly I’m supposed to say to a man whose mouth has been —I get up.I ne
JaxonThe sound pulls me out of sleep before my brain catches up with my body.I’m already reaching under my pillow before my eyes open, and my fingers reaching from my gun. I’m about to grab it and stalk into the area where the noise is coming from, when I remember I brought a guest home. And I figure the clattering is coming from my kitchen.I sit up, run a hand over my face, and grab the nearest thing — sweatpants from the floor, no shirt. I move through the hallway on instinct, quiet, and push the kitchen door open.Roman is eating cereal directly from the box. Silas has somehow, at whatever ungodly hour this is, produced a bowl of pasta and is working through it with the focused devotion of a man who hasn’t eaten in three days.The tension leaves my shoulders. I lean against the doorframe.Roman looks up. “Who pissed in your cereal?”“What the fuck are you two doing here?” I push off the doorframe and move to the fridge. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Jobs? Lives?”“We do have
ElenaThe ceiling is unfamiliar.That’s the first thing I register before my eyes are even fully open — the ceiling is the wrong color, the wrong texture, and the pillow under my head smells like someone else’s home. I reach my hand out slowly, feeling the cool expanse of sheets beside me, and then I sit up.Too fast. The pain behind my eyes detonates immediately and I press my fingers against my temples and breathe through it.Okay. Where the hell am I?I look around the room. Clean. Minimal. It looks like a guest room. Dark curtains. A glass of water on the nightstand that I didn’t put there.And then it comes back. Not all at once — in pieces. The shots. Maya and those two men at the bar. The music. The hands on my waist. The face.Jaxon.I kissed my therapist at a club and then asked him to take me home and he did and then he — oh my god. Oh my god. He got on his knees and — I press both hands over my face and make a sound into my palms that has no name.My therapist. My actual li






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