The Sweetest Oblivion Book 2 Novels & Stories

My heart skipped, my chest pounding, my pulse, jumping I grabbed it — Nothing. Just a dumb weather alert. I let out a breath that wasn’t relief. Nightshade was definitely ignoring me. Levi was intentionally driving into my emotional cracks. Come to think of it, all the men I've encountered so far just wanted one thing. Sex. And I'm definitely sure that's what Levi wants. I sat back on the counter, pouring the juice inside the glass, as the memories of Atticus and me came flooding down. I set my phone face down on the counter.

It was ownership—her grip tightening around the last thing she could still keep from him. The room tilted again as he tried to push himself forward—tried to make his body obey the urgency in his mind—and his strength betrayed him in the same instant. He drew in a breath too quickly, too shallow, the way drowning men do when they break the surface. At first he only tasted the usual bitterness—herbs, wax, medicine—familiar as a prison. Then something sweeter threaded through it. Faint. Almost imagined. He blinked hard, breath hitching. The sweetness lingered anyway, clinging to the back of his throat like a film. It didn’t belong with the herbs. It was too smooth for sickness. Too deliberate.

But it was everlasting. "And I love you too bunny" Always... and forever. The End Thank you so much for following this story and your supportive reviews, you guys are the best. Check out the sequel, "it's titled Sinful obsession "

Dammit, I felt like coming already just hearing those words, but not yet, not until I saw her limp and sated. I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against her earlobe as I whispered in a raspy voice, "You're beautiful. You pleased me. The way you take me, all hungry and desperate, it's driving me insane. I want to make you scream my name until you can't remember anything else."

“I have already informed the head of marketing team, and—“ She swallowed against her dry throat. She noticed his was trying to build walls between them again after the scorching kiss they had in the elevator not so long again. As much as she wanted to hate him for acting cold towards her away, something about the dark look in his eyes aroused her. She was so fucking attracted to everything about him. Both when he was cold or sweet. Wait. Has he ever been sweet to her? He thought. She bit her bottom lips. Maybe only when he was sending her senses in an overdrive. Giving her that much pleasure is him being sweet to her. She wanted to feel his touch on her body. But he was not helping matters b

L smoothly said as if his previous action of pinching the bodyguard to interrupt him wasn't seen by the family. To be so shameless must be a gift. “Of course, it was our pleasure hosting you...” Arya spoke as calmly and fluently as she could muster. She hoped that all the high-class novels she had read in the city library won't fail her. “Then I can leave in peace... Goodbye.” And in less than a minute, the two of them had left their house. “And also, your home truly is lovely...” Mr. L commented as the car drove off.

Ayla sighed. “When we were in Daya’s cave, I had a dream.” She never told him about that dream. “I dreamed of me, of us. We were older, and I was… pregnant.” Rhobart’s eyes fell on her flat stomach, yearning in his dark gaze. She cleared her throat. “It was in this dream that I learned of a book, the forgotten book. I went into the tunnel to look for it,” she finally confessed. Rhobart was silent for a moment. “Why haven’t you told me anything about this book until now? Don’t you trust me?”

She gulped greedily, whimpering with each sip. His mate, his, only his. END OF BOOK 1

Chapter 29 : The Morning After The Storm (Zara POV) After leaving Dominic’s penthouse, I didn’t even realize how quiet the ride down the elevator felt until I was already outside the building. The air was colder than I expected for that time of night, or maybe it just felt that way because my thoughts were not staying still long enough for me to properly feel anything else. I kept replaying the way Dominic had gone quiet when Claire spoke, and the way everything suddenly felt like it had shifted into something I was no longer fully inside of, like I was standing at the edge of a story that was still moving without me.

This was the ghost that haunted me, the love that had defined and destroyed me. My first instinct, the one that had governed me for two years, was to reach for a bottle. To drown the memory in the familiar, burning embrace of ambrosia. My hand was already moving toward the bedside table where I usually kept a flask. But then I stopped. A different voice cut through the haze of my grief. It wasn’t Arete’s. It was Saea’s, dry and teasing. Oblivion tastes better on a full stomach. The image of her, her white hair catching the firelight as she rolled her eyes at my complaints, flickered in my mind. It was subtle but important: for the first time since Arete died, comfort was beginning to exist s