Powerless (Chestnut Springs, #3)

by Elsie Silver

What I don’t realize is that I’ll be fighting the urge to stare at Jasper Gervais for years to come.

Sloane Winthrop’s fiancé is a royal douchebag.

Listening to her small-dicked future husband boast to a table full of family and friends I’ve never met about something that is honestly embarrassing—and sad—isn’t how I’d choose to spend a night off.

Fuck my safety. If I died riding Jasper Gervais in the driver’s seat of this truck, I might be fine with that. What a way to go. Out with a bang, so to speak.

Because no matter what else is going on in the world, everything is better with her in my arms.

Only Jasper Gervais would have a body like a titan, a face like a model, and a cock like a pornstar.

Beau: Yeah. But that was then. That guy ain’t shit now. You’re Jasper fucking Gervais. Olympic gold medalist. Future Stanley Cup Champion. Sports Illustrated cover model material. Cousin fucker.