Interesting Romance Books Mga Nobela at Kwento

Her brother, thankfully, was out with friends—some last-minute poker night. Good. She padded into the living room, heading straight for the bookshelf Adrian always hovered around. His collection was huge, but it was the bottom shelf she wanted—dark red spines, old bindings. Erotica, classic and poetic. She’d seen the way his eyes lingered on those books when he thought no one was watching. Her fingers brushed one of the worn covers: Venus in Furs. She smirked. Just as she was settling onto the couch with it—tucked into the far corner, legs curled beneath her—she heard a door open.

Every step had me wincing, but it was my one chance to snoop around while he was stuck in the bathroom and in all honesty, I was curious. I would bet he read books like forty eight laws of power and nonfiction gruel like that. I had nothing against them, I just did not see their appeal. Give me a- "Nora Roberts?" I fished out a book, checking out the titles. There were several. Several was an understatement. All the books in the bookshelf were romance novels. Romance! I covered my hands over my mouth, trying to rein in my giggles. What on earth? My big sexy hunk of a man read romance books? That was hilarious.

His eyes darkened, finally meeting hers, the teasing dominance she remembered flickering to life. Lena moved closer, her body brushing his, the scent of her perfume mingling with his cologne. She leaned in, her lips hovering near his ear and traced the shell of his earlobe with the tip of her tongue, slow, wet, teasing. Then she pressed her mouth to his neck, kissing the pulse point there, sucking lightly as her hand continued to palm his now fully erect cock.

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His hand found my cock. “Names on purpose now,” Ash murmured. “Dangerous little thing.” I rode. I said Rook when I wanted the deep grind. I said Ash when I wanted the hand and the mouth on my neck. I used them like they’d used the count. It made Rook’s grip bruise my hips. It made Ash bite the old mark and groan like he was losing. Choosing was its own heat. Worse than being arranged on a mattress, because every drop of my hips was a vote I would have to remember. My thighs burned. Slick ran down Rook and onto the bed. I kept going until the anger and the want were the same motion.

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How I met him was quite a meet-cute, never have I been in a relationship this passionate. He was everything and supported me, he gave me all I ever asked for. Since I first met him at the club, where I turned from a waitress to a striper, he had always hovered around me. He made me felt special, I could see his love for me in his eyes. We never had any problems, just small irrelevant arguments. I have been dreaming about the day he would propose to me, to be sincere, I have never been this patient in my life.

The rug was a lost cause, and so was I. Ava traced lazy circles on my stomach. “Still catching the morning train?” I laughed, raw. “Changed my plans. Indefinitely.” Ethan pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “Good. We’re just warming up.” Liam’s hand slid between my thighs, teasing. “Chapter two starts at dawn.” I closed my eyes, sated and aching and already wet again. The lodge smelled of sex and pine and possibility. Outside, the mountain stood silent. Inside, three bodies curled closer, ready to write the next scene on my skin.

The textbooks slid to the floor with a loud thud, but neither of us cared. He crashed his lips onto mine, and the kiss was nothing like a teacher and a student. It was hungry, arrogant, and deep. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. I didn’t care about my grades, my parents, or the pain in my side. All I wanted was the man who was currently lifting me onto his desk, his hands moving shamelessly over my body. “Forget the book,” he whispered against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. “I think it’s time for a different kind of lesson.”

“If it’s the one person who makes your heart race and your blood feel like it’s on fire, then yes. Common sense doesn’t stand much of a chance.” “But what if that person is the worst possible choice?” I asked. “What if he doesn’t respect her, doesn’t love her back, treats her like crap?” “Why are you so worked up?” She snatched the book out of my hands and glanced at the cover. Then she snorted. “Oh. I get it now. You’ve been reading again. A historical romance? Honestly, that’s still an improvement over those creepy occult books you used to read. What, you didn’t like the hero?”