Romans & histoires Evan Booktok

“Sorry, I just realized my Delta is coming and should be here soon. Maybe let someone know so it doesn’t cause a commotion out there.” Tess nods and tells Anne to go. I light myself another smoke and take a deep inhale. Fuck, I needed that. I exhale while Tess asks if I want another drink, and I nod. I take another drag and a quick sip. “Man, that feels good.” I say, smoke coming out of my nose. Tess chuckles. “I’m surprised you haven’t smoked through your entire pack after all that.” I sigh. “Me too. So, going back to your earlier question, Evan is not out in the field for two reasons —one, he has a mate, and the other is the risk of someone recognizing him.” I explain.

“You know they’re practically identical, right? Emotionally. You probably just started a three-woman civil war and you’re the fucking prize. And may I add that they are all super insane.” Evan grinned proudly. “Damn right they are insane, if you see what they did with the tongue.” "Ew Evan just eww" I grimaced. "But you just called me the prize." Evan pouted like I had kicked his favorite puppy. “Not a compliment, jackass.” He stumbled forward a bit, still shirtless, still smug, looking like some Greek god who wandered off from Mount Olympus and into chaos. “You’re just mad you weren’t invited.” My eyes snapped to his. “Excuse me?!”

Adam's pov Right above the Extase Club was my floor. It was secluded from all the ruckus down there. The music, the noise, the fights and all. It was like a fucking sanctuary. And yet it gave me so much pleasure to hear that tiny gasp slip from Eve's lips when I led her to my bedroom. Or my dungeon as I would rather call it. The only similarity between the room and a bedroom was the presence of a bed. King sized to be precise, with white sheets all ready to be married.

My Dear Readers, Thank you for reading this book until the very end. Despite how different this book started, you still supported me. I hope you loved the story of Evan and Shantelle, plus their friends. If you want to read Lucas' story, check out the book "Gone Too Long, The CEO Becomes A World-Class Doting Husband." Please follow me on my social so you can get an update on the next book. To my new readers, if you want to read my other stories, below are all my books on Goodnovel:

Impossible. ​“Evanthe?”

I didn't want to watch that unravel in front my eyes. While I quickly scuttle to my room, I find Ethel in the hallway. "Thank heavens I have found you. I have been looking for you." Ethel mutters gaining my attention. "There is something I think that might help." she pulled me to Evanna's study which was just at the end of the hallway. "Here," Ethel pointed at the covered big book with a golden cover. "Do you think it can help me locate the stone?" I ask anxiously. "I think so. This book has been with Evanna for as long as I know and I think it can help." she pursues her lips.

he said, looking concerned. "It's nothing. I am used to it," I said. Evan sighed and stepped closer to me. He took my hand and kissed my fingers. "I'll make you feel better," his voice was deep and husky. His eyes were dark and full of lust. Even I could see it. OH MY GOD, Evan Green wants me. Me, the nerdy Annie with dorky glasses. Did my mom kill me last night? Am I in heaven?

Someday, Evan hoped he had that, too. End of Volume 1: Stolen Risk

A tall figure stumbled in. Evan. He looked… homeless. Hair standing in different directions, T-shirt wrinkled, trousers hanging low, eyes barely open. He scratched his head as he walked in, completely unaware of how ridiculous he looked. Julian glanced up from his book. A slow grin spread across his face. “I should take a picture,” he said. “Post it. Let your fans see what their precious celebrity looks like before coffee.” Evan squinted at him. “Do that and I’ll unfollow myself.”

“We can talk about it over coffee and pastries, in that case.” That was the thing about Evan. Human or not, he could read me like I was his favorite book. I’d always been guarded and reserved—that was a learned skill, growing up the way I did. No one wanted to hear about my pseudo-religious trauma, and how even though I had never set foot in a church, my dad always made sure that I knew everything I did was a sin—but Evan didn’t care about decorum. Maybe it was something about the era he grew up in, back before, “you should see a therapist, have you tried—” insert internet therapy scam here, was the expected response to sharing a trauma. Or maybe it had something to do with his eternal life.