Dance Slow

Jeffrey leaned against the door, his eyes locked on Ronald. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” he asked, his voice low. “Like you’re holding something back.” Ronald’s stare didn’t waver, “Because I am.” Jeffrey stepped closer, heat building up between them. “Then stop.” Ronald’s fingers brushed his jaw, slow and intentional. “You have no idea what I’d do to you if I let go.” “I’m not afraid of you,” Jeffrey whispered. “I’m afraid you won’t.” The tension grew as Ronald’s lips were only a breath away from his. “Say it,” he said. Jeffrey didn’t blink. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.” That was all it took. Ronald grabbed him by the waist and pulled him in with a wild kiss… ***** Ronald was to be engaged to seal a business alliance between both families, unknown to them that he was into men. The night before his engagement, he found a man that stole his heart. And this man happened to be his fiancée’s brother. Would Ronald overcome his desire, or would he choose love? Explore a tale of romance, suspense, treachery, and love. The fascinating novel ‘LOVE IS WAR’ will have you reading until the very last page.

On the night of my wedding, my best friend's younger brother wiped the sweat from his forehead and asked me, “It’s a little big. Can you handle it?” I stared at his perfectly defined abs, my mind going completely blank. “What?” He repeated, “Can you handle it?” My voice jumped an octave from my panic. “Aren't we supposed to take things slow? Isn’t this way too fast?” That night, the sound-activated lights in the house flickered on and off until dawn. Meanwhile, my ex-husband was squatting downstairs. His eyes were swollen red from crying, but I did not even spare him a thought. Back then, when I agreed to let him proceed with a fake wedding with his childhood sweetheart, Miles Carter thought our cold war was over. When he explained things to me, he said, “Vivian and I will only be married on paper. The ceremony is just to satisfy my mom. I swear, when this is over, we’ll live as a real couple.” I remained silent. I just stared at the countdown on my phone, counting the days until I could finally leave. He did not know that the moment he tricked me into signing the divorce papers, our marriage had already ceased to exist.

I was the "Sickly Prince"—a weak scholar hidden in oversized suits. But in the underworld, secrets are the only currency that matters, and mine is the most lethal of all. Aradaa Vaelis has spent twenty-one years hiding his elite combat training from his tyrannical father, the Don. But when his father gambles away his sister’s life, Aradaa is forced to shatter his facade. To save his sister, Aradaa makes a deal with the devil: he will become a human sacrifice for the Dreadfang Clan, a savage "Beast" Mafia known for their monstrous strength. His buyer? Kaelor Dreadfang. Known as the "Beast King," Kaelor is a man losing his mind to a feral rage and a slow poison. He doesn't want a soldier; he wants a "pretty toy" to break. But the moment they touch, a primal Mate Bond ignites—a shockwave of desire that neither can fight. Now, Aradaa is trapped in the King's Master Suite, serving as Kaelor’s "Exclusive." But as the Syndicate moves to destroy them both, Aradaa’s true lineage begins to surface. He isn't just a slave or a scholar—he is the Pure-Blood, the only one capable of curing the bio-weapon plague and ruling the underworld. The "Pretty Prince" is dead. The King’s partner has arrived. And together, they will burn the Syndicate to the ground.

On the road, I met a woman unlike anyone I had ever seen before. Her name was Janet Smith. She seemed slow and almost childlike, yet she had been wandering alone for two years without ever going home. Even with one leg crippled, she had forced herself to climb the Highveil Mountains. This time, however, she was caught in a blizzard. Injured and stranded, she could no longer make her way down. As her vision blurred and her strength slipped away, tears covered her face. She placed a pair of small handmade clay dolls in my hands. "I'm probably going to die here," she murmured. "Please give these to my adoptive brother, Chester Graham." She was clearly at death's door, yet her smile was soft and unexpectedly serene. "Tell him I've seen enough of the world. I don't love him anymore. And tell him he doesn't need to worry. I'm not so foolish now. I won't cause trouble for anyone again." Chester? At the sound of his name, I stood rooted to the spot. In Riverton City, everyone who worked at the harbor knew him, the so-called Ship King. Right before I left for the mountains, news of his engagement had been everywhere.

Our daughter, Luna Woods, developed a high fever. Her body was burning hot. I immediately dialed 911 for help. The dispatcher on the other end kept repeating his questions. He spoke slowly, as if deliberately stalling for time. By the time I finally heard the ambulance siren, Luna was already turning cold in my arms. In less than a year, my wife and I separated. We were consumed by endless grief and blamed for each other. Afterward, I merely existed for the sake of it. I was a hollow shell of a man. Then, one day, I received a wedding invitation from my ex-wife. The moment I played the audio invitation, a chill ran down my spine. The groom’s voice was identical to that of the slow, dawdling dispatcher from that year! I rushed out, utterly distraught, only to be hit by a roaring train. When I opened my eyes again, I heard Luna crying in the next room. Her forehead was burning hot. My wife hurriedly handed me the phone. “Quick, call 911! I’ll get a wet towel.” My hands trembled as I took the phone. When it was answered, I heard a familiar male voice through the receiver. “911, what’s your emergency?”

His hands feel cold against my hot skin and it won’t be wrong to say that he is doing his best to trace my wrists sensually while he removes the handcuff from my right hand. I hold my breath back when his teasing fingers touch my palm in a slow motion. Heat shoots down to my core, making me press my thighs together as he closes the distance between us and whispers in my left ear. “ Why are you squirming, hot lips?” ******** When Valentina Morgan joined hands with the enemy to take down the Mafia of her own boyfriend, little did she know she will be facing the biggest manipulator in all history, Matteo Vitali. He is every bit of the type of controlling men she hates but the six feet four, sex on legs man, can attract even the dead. And soon she falls in line of the people wondering if they should let go of everything and enjoy the nights of passion in the arms of the biggest manipulator_____Matteo Vitali wanted Valentina Morgan, the moment he laid his eyes on her pouty pink lips and when she is in his hands, he will be damned to give up this chance to bend her at his will even if he has a secret which can break her beyong repair, because he admits. “ She's mine ”

“You’re drunk,” he said, smirking. “Yeah,” she admitted, then reached out and touched his shirt. “But I still want to have sex with you.” Vincenzo tilted his head slightly, like he was studying a new toy. "You were about to go after my bodyguard, huh?" he said. His fingers suddenly cupped her breast, slow and confident. “And yet, you look more like a virgin than a pervert.” That sobered her up a bit. “I—what?” Before she could say anything else, she blurted, “I want to have sex with you. I’m all yours tonight.” Vincenzo raised a brow, then smiled. “If that’s what you want.” He stood up, lifted her into his arms effortlessly, and carried her through a side door. Her arms looped around his neck as her heart pounded so hard she could barely breathe. He kicked open a private room. Inside, he pressed her against the wall and kissed her—hot, commanding, full of hunger. She melted into it. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t care who she was supposed to be. She was just a girl kissing a stranger.

At that moment a slow song came on and Aurora got close to him. "What are you doing?" he asked and backed away. "Just go along with it." she took his hands and placed them on her hips. Aurora put her arms around his shoulders and they swayed to the music. Her head rested on him and he simply followed her lead and they stayed like that for a while. Aurora didn't realize how exhausted she had been until she did that. For the past few days, so many things had happened and all this time she was pushing herself to keep going. She was especially tired after having to straighten her hair for hours. "Aurora," Caden called her gently. "Something needs to happen. I just saw another one of them enter." "Hmm," she murmured. Her arms felt weighed down on his shoulders. She felt like she was being swaddled. "Don't tell me you're getting tired?" he asked. Aurora chuckled. "I would not be this tired if it weren't for you. You're so big and you smell good. Where did you get your cologne by the way? I want it." Aurora looked at him and he was already looking down at her.

His eyes returned to me—slow, assessing. Then, without warning, his hands shot up and clamped around my throat. I gasped, instinctively clawing at his arms. He didn’t move. “Disobey me again,” he said, voice low, stripped of warmth, “and we won’t be counting next time.” Even shaking, I lifted my chin. “Then don’t mistake silence for obedience,” I said hoarsely. Carlino’s voice followed—calm, absolute, as if nothing had happened. “Lock her floor tonight.” That was when it settled. There was no mercy here. No exaggeration. Every word, every threat—he meant them. He wasn’t pretending to be the devil. He simply didn’t bother hiding it. --- She hates him. He refuses to let himself want her. Lina Gray never thought love would betray her. Until the man she trusted, traded her life to pay his debts. Delivered into the hands of Carlino Lacentra, the Mafia king whose name ends conversations. Lina is stripped of choice and crowned Donna to secure a throne she never asked for. In his world, power is law, loyalty is currency, and a woman beside the king is never just a woman.

The day before our wedding, Luke Murray got wasted. On the ride home, he looked right at me and slurred, "Cassie, don't bring the kid to the ceremony. Arya can't know I'm the dad." I hit the brakes. Hard. He smacked into the seatback, halfway sobering up. When he finally realized it was me, he just... froze. Then he said real slow, "Guess you heard. Wedding's off—for now. Cassie doesn't want marriage, but the kid's mine, so I gotta step up. She's your bestie, right? You probably feel bad she's doing this alone. So once he's in school, I'll come back and marry you." I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "...That's fine. I don't mind." He didn't say a word when we got home—just grabbed his suitcase and left. I wiped the last tear off my face, sat on the bed, and just stared at nothing. Then my phone lit up. My childhood friend's voice cracked on the other end. "Arya, don't marry him. Please." I didn't say anything for a sec. "Okay."