Love Thriller Books Novels & Stories

She stole my breath away at that moment. She picked up the phone at the other end, her eyes urging me to do the same. “I’m planning on writing a book,” she whispered, still maintaining her friendly face. “Writing a book? Bitch, what the hell do you want?” I yelled, my eyes blazing with fury. What did her writing skills have to do with me? “The book is about failures. Guess who would be on the cover? You,” she said, her lips parting as laughter escaped them. I stared at her with rage, different methods of turning her instincts flickering in my mind.

It was deeper than before, harder. “This is what happens to thieves,” he hissed, his pace turning into a frantic, driving blur. “They get caught. They get used. They get ruined.” The desk creaked under our weight, the rhythm of his body hitting mine echoing through the silent penthouse. Every strike made me gasp his name. I felt like I was being branded, every inch of my skin belonging to the man who was supposed to be my enemy. He reached out, grabbing my hair and pulling my head back for a kiss that tasted of bourbon and me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting to disappear into the heat.

I sank into the worn velvet armchair tucked between the stacks, the one customers sometimes used to read a chapter before buying. I opened the book. The first story was about a librarian and a stranger who came in after hours. I laughed under my breath. Too on the nose. But I kept reading. The words were lush, explicit. The stranger’s hands on her thighs, the way he whispered commands against her ear, the slow build of tension until she begged. My pulse quickened. Heat pooled low in my belly. I glanced around—the shop was empty, windows dark, street noise muffled by snow. I was alone.

In one swift, violent motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her lace panties and ripped them down her legs, discarding them onto the floor like trash. Before she could even register the cold air, he was back, his fingers diving into her heat. He worked them inside her with a brutal, rhythmic precision, his thumb grinding against her until Rissa’s back arched off the bed, her heels digging into the mattress. She was helpless, a moaning mess until the first wave hit her so hard she let out a choked scream, her body trembling as she squirted against his hand. Ronan pulled his hand back, his eyes dark and victorious. He held his glistening fingers to her lips, and Rissa, completely

“I want your wand to stir my pot. Think about it.” She dismissed me with a flick of her hand, leaving me burning with irritation, and a dangerous mix of desire I didn’t want to feel for her. Back in my room, I paced, fury simmering under my skin. A cold shower. That was the only thing that could tame the heat gnawing at me. I stripped and stepped under the shower rushing down my tense muscles, washing away sweat but not the images flooding my mind: Cassie’s flushed cheeks, the tremble of her thighs, the sound of her breath breaking against my ear.

My fingers were trembling. His weren’t. He laced them through mine. And we drove like that for miles, two fugitives with a shared breath and a growing bond stitched together by fear, fire, and the very thing neither of us dared to name yet— Hope. --- Author's Note Thank you so much for reading Chapter Nine of Until the Lie Loved Me! Things are heating up for Celeste, and the stakes are only going to climb from here. What did you think of the escape? The moment in the car? The growing tension between Celeste and the man she’s starting to trust?

Why does he have to be so damn dangerously sexy? My hand moved downward again, slower this time. I slipped it under my shorts, fingers brushing over my already damp panties. A soft sigh escaped me as I started touching myself, imagining it was Ezekiel’s hands instead of mine. Imagining him fresh out of the pool, still wet, pressing me against the wall and kissing me like he couldn’t get enough. My fingers moved faster, circling my clit as heat built between my legs. I bit my lip to stay quiet, but soft whimpers still slipped out. The necklace felt cool against my skin, a reminder that he had thought about me. That he had picked this out for me.

"I brought some books you might want to take a look at. Where should I put it?" The sound of running water from the shower made me realize that she was still bathing and probably couldn't hear me. I'd leave the books on her bed so she'd see it when she comes out. I stepped inside her bedroom. My gaze went to the floor where clothes were scattered. The shirt she used from earlier was first on the trail. Then her jeans, socks, bra, and finally her black lace underwear. My face flushed. Uno and Blaze wore those. My thoughts strayed to a place I've never ventured before. She left me cookie crumbs, and like a kid who didn't know any better, I have followed it.

Tia Juanita, nursing her newborn in her arms, greeted her with a bright smile while Tia Lucinda served Dinara a hot cup of freshly brewed coffee. "Hey, ladies!" She answered -to her ears- very lamely. It was too obvious and she was jeopardizing the secrecy of her illicit relationship with El Patron. Well, if it's up to her she would gladly shout it out from the top of the mountains. A conundrum. This shit was killing her. "Rough night?" Tia Lucinda asked skeptically. She could feel her gaze boring on the side of her head, trying to read her thoughts. Good luck with that tia.

She’d never believed in love at first sight until she met Nick. Buttons flew here and there when she shocked them both by ripping her shirt open to allow him easy access to her wanting breasts. A deep, lusty chuckle escaped his throat just before he lowered his lips to take her in. His mouth felt hot and moist against her flesh. It was so very different from the dry, almost irritating sensation Arthur produced whenever he fondled her in such a way. The difference between lovers was so acute, Alison couldn’t help wondering what else would be different. She longed to have him move lower with his ministrations, but hesitated in asking.