Corrupted Union (The Byrne Brothers #2)

by Jill Ramsower

Then his lips were on mine, his hands gripping me tightly to him. I met his kiss with an intensity that rivaled his own. We were two magnets unable to resist one another.

He raised his hand as if to cup my cheek, but instead, his thumb tugged on my bottom lip before drifting down until his large hand cuffed my throat.

Like the last time, she didn’t taste like strawberry lip gloss or mint gum. That would be too typical for her. Rowan Alexander tasted like summer rain and heartbreak. Mine or hers, I couldn’t be sure. Either way, I was addicted. It took every last shred of my control to finally pull away from her.

“You’d rather let your father live in some fairy tale while you’re miserable than make him face reality?”

Show me all your fury, beautiful. Unleash it all.

“I’m going to fuck you against this wall,” I informed her, sounding half savage even to my own ears. “I do something you don’t like, I expect you to fucking tell me.”

I’d learned to manage it by keeping calm, but fuck if Rowan didn’t make me feel like a stuttering kid again.

Rowan was meant for me, and one way or another, I’d find a way to prove it to her.

“My bed is your bed. I wake alone, and I will not be happy. Understood?” Holy hell, why did I feel like saying yes, sir? It was there on the tip of my tongue, but I kept it at bay, nodding instead. He made a masculine rumble deep in his chest, then swatted my ass. “Good, now keep moving.” Suddenly, I wasn’t so tired.

“That’s my girl. My wife. You’re mine, Rowan Byrne. All. Fucking. Mine.”

“No, she crammed herself into a mold to suit your expectations in a desperate attempt not to disappoint you. There’s a fucking difference.” My tone edged on hostile.

“It’s time to think about what you want, Rowan,” I rasped through my lusty haze. “Not what’s expected of you or what you think you should want. Figure out what makes you feel good, and seize it. Life’s too fucking short for anything less.”

She was so goddamn strong. But even the sturdiest trees needed solid foundation for their roots. I wanted to give that to her—to see her thrive—and

“My love for you, little lamb, is endless. I love you so goddamn much it hurts.” I