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To Dr. Spencer Reid, Criminal Minds did you dirty, Pretty Boy. You deserved a happy ending, so this one’s for you.
A messy Michelangelo masterpiece.
the kinds of men I wrote about, the impressively muscular, confident Casanovas. Not beautiful men with dimpled smiles who dressed like the old man from Up!
“Did you know studies show more pathogens are exchanged by shaking hands than a ten-second kiss?”
Ranger Reynolds was unexpectedly sexy, and that might just be the most dangerous thing about him.
No ex-fiancés. No angry fans. No intrusive paparazzi. No book boyfriends. Just my little apartment and my awkward landlord.
Something happened when I saw her in person… like I was seeing her for the first time. There were little bits of gold in her irises that the photo didn’t capture. Strands of hair that were more red than brown. There were details I wasn’t prepared for, and I was always prepared.
But what I didn’t find was a reason why when she’d teased about making out instead of shaking hands, I hadn’t simply mistaken her for serious; I’d wanted her to be.
It was logical to avoid things that caused uncontrollable and potentially hazardous reactions. I already had a list of those. Shellfish. Cocaine. Explosives. And now, Sydney Ward.
I appreciated the irony of being able to read twenty thousand words per minute but being unable to read a person.
The slow smile that spread over his face was the one Mom always called trouble, but it was rarely aimed at me.
The only facts people got stuck on were that I still lived at home with Mom and had a nonexistent social life. Because those things somehow negated all of my achievements and success.
Smart people knew their weaknesses; brilliant people avoided them at all costs.
Was it possible to get to know someone without talking to them? Because every time I saw him, that was what it felt like was happening.
“Reading is good for the brain. It increases knowledge, expands vocabulary, strengthens cognitive skills—did you know that reading can reduce stress by up to sixty-eight percent? It works faster than listening to music or drinking a cup of hot tea.”
Those who can’t do, teach. Those who can’t find a decent man write book boyfriends.
confirming my suspicions that he’d definitely seen my naked boobs that first week. And now I knew that thanks to his eidetic memory, he’d remember my breasts in vivid detail until the end of his days. Wonderful.
One of those things I didn’t pick up on because it wasn’t… because I wasn’t… smart enough.
But there was nothing that drove me to madness more than not understanding.
Research showed messiness and clutter were common characteristics among people with higher IQs.
She stared, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. When she did that, my body reacted like a flame responding to an accelerant. She described it in her books as heat flooding every cell. My brain knew it was vasodilation.
And maybe I also wanted to know what a first kiss would be like in a perfect world—in one of her books. Then I’d know what to do when it came time for me to kiss someone in real life.
Was it because she made the thoughts stop? Because touching her made feelings make sense?
I stumbled back, dragging my hands through my hair and gasping for air like the room was running out of it. It was all… too much. Too overwhelming.
I put my special brain to use—my eidetic memory reconstructing every detail of the last half hour. Every touch and feel. Every scent and sound. Every taste and sensation of Sydney’s perfect mouth. Like my own personal porno, I played through the vivid details in slow motion while my fist jerked along my length.
Kissing Sydney had felt forbidden. Addictive. And I wanted to know more. I wanted to know everything. But I couldn’t.
He’d followed the structure from my novels like they were instructions I’d written specifically for him and then evolved. When a certain stroke of his tongue made me moan, he did it again. When the firm bite of his teeth on my lip made me whimper, he made sure to repeat the torture. Was there such a thing as a prodigy of pleasure? Because Ranger had the brain and he had the touch.
I might be the only woman in the world who felt this way, but hearing Ranger jerk himself off after he left the apartment was one of the hottest experiences of my life.
“Great,” I muttered and squeezed my thighs together. I was hungover and horny.
How was I supposed to ignore my crush when I was relying on him twenty-four seven?
Normally, silence didn’t bother me; I liked the quiet, but I didn’t like this. She was upset, and she tried to hide it.
And now, I had to figure out how to do the one thing my brain was designed not to do. Forget. Forget her taste. Forget her softness. Forget the way she wanted more—wanted me. Because I had to protect her.
She didn’t want statistics; she wanted safety. “I won’t let him.” It wasn’t an answer; it was a promise.
Neither Gunner nor Gwen remembered hiding in the closet;
But I did.
“Your responsibility right now is Sydney, Ranger. Making sure she feels secure and comfortable. Now it’s your turn to give us a chance to have your back.”
“You carry a handkerchief?” She sniffled and dabbed her eyes. “They’re very practical and environmentally friendly,” I murmured,
“I’m not a machine. How was I supposed to write a happy ending I didn’t believe in?”
Let’s just say that his IQ wasn’t the most massive thing about him.
“Any scene involving Dixon,” Zoey chimed in with a grin. “Seriously?” Hunter sat forward and stared. “What? He’s pierced!”
I hadn’t needed a reminder that there were still readers who loved my books… I needed the reminder that, at my core, I was a romantic. A romance reader. And romance readers didn’t give up on their happy ending.
He kissed me like I was this giant unknown, and he wasn’t going to stop until he’d uncovered every fact and facet of my desire.
She made me speechless. Thoughtless. Powerless. “Let me,” she murmured huskily, her palm flattening to the bare skin of my chest. “You know everything, Ranger. Tonight, I want to know you.”
Her chin dipped. “I know how strong your mind is,” she said throatily. “I want to be the one who makes it lose control.”
Getting your dick sucked is life changing, Baby Brains. I could distinctly recall Gunner’s words when he’d picked me up late from school after an SAT prep session.
Ranger propped back on the bed, the cords of his neck straining as I sucked his cock. The cut of his lean abdominal muscles pulled taut with pleasure. The pained concern he had when I choked myself on his length.
“If you don’t give them a chance to see you differently, they never will.” Her voice carried to me.
“There are no experts on loving, Ranger. Just people brave enough to try.”
The smartest thing I could do for our marriage was to keep my hands—and mouth—off my wife. But for the first time in thirty-two years, the smartest choice and the easiest choice weren’t the same.
“In your books, the heroes always add a second finger.” I made a garbled sound, wanting to tell him he was sufficiently destroying me with one,
