Hey crew we are today’s stop on the FATE tour. This is the second book in the series. I loved Choices the first book– it was the first book where I couldn’t decide which book boy team I was on. Check out the excerpt and enter the giveaway!
I’m used to getting what I want. I’ve always taken what I wanted. No apologies. No excuses.
I know what it feels like to be betrayed, when someone else is calling all the shots. I’ve been down that road, and I’m not going there again. I’ve got my family, my friends, and the brotherhood. That’s all I need.
I believe in Fate. Everything happens for a reason. But what do you do when Fate kicks you in the gut, plays a cruel joke on you?
When I met Quincy Priest, she was a flame I couldn’t put out. A freakin’ wildfire. She blew in to my life, burned it to the ground, then left me standing in the ashes. Gone as suddenly as she came. I’m not sure if I should love her or hate her… But I don’t hate her. I could never hate her.
What do you do when the person who broke you may be the only person who can put you back together?
Can you run from Fate?
Do you even want to?
This is Brody’s story.
In the dark, I quickly shed my pants and pull my shirt over my head. It’s not until I’m standing by the bed, with the moon shining through the window, that I see the outline of a slumbering angel. I can just make out the curve of her neck and the shape of her lips. It’s Quincy, and even sleeping, she is ridiculously sexy.
“Aw, hell,” I say out loud, the perfect ending to this shit day. The girl I want but can’t touch is in my bed. I just don’t have the heart, or the sense, to wake her and tell her she’s in the wrong room. Instead, I pull back the blanket and crawl in behind her.
With my back to her, I lie awake for a long time. Quincy sighs in her sleep, her breathing even and soft as it whispers across her pillow. Every time she moves, my body hums with awareness. It fuels the wood I’ve been sporting all night. With no end in sight.
Fortunately, the alcohol in my system muddles my thoughts and makes it difficult to keep my eyes open. I imagine rolling over and planting myself firmly between her thighs, running my hands up her body. But the last vision I see before drifting off to sleep is her eyes, those big, brown eyes, watching me through the flames and wet with tears. What is she running from?
Quincy’s body is pressed against my back, and I can feel her breath on my neck. Arms encircle me from behind, and small hands with pink nails begin exploring my body. Across my chest, down my stomach, to the waistband of my boxer briefs. When her lips graze the back of my neck, my eyes fly open. I’m not dreaming. Little Miss Perfect is molesting me in my sleep.
“Quince, please. There is only so much I can take before I do something we’ll both regret.” Her hand stills at my waist, but she doesn’t pull away like I expect her to. Instead, she keeps her arms wrapped around me, pulling me tighter.
I began the night with the intention to get her in my bed, but not like this. She’s been drinking, and I know something upset her earlier. When I take her, I want all of her. And I want her sober.
I roll over to face her, our bodies aligned and our lips only a breath away. “I want you, Quince. But I don’t think you’re ready for this.” Her breathing quickens, and I feel her body shivering against me. When her tongue darts out, running across her bottom lip as she closes her eyes, it breaks me. “Open your eyes, Quince. I want you to see who you’re kissing. I want you to know it’s me, and I want you to see me every time you close your eyes.” Slowly, so slowly, she opens them… and I see it written there. She wants me. She wants this too.
“Are you sure about this? Because I might lose all control if I kiss you,” I whisper in her ear, breathing her in. I hold back as I savor the moment. She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to. Her body is doing the talking for her. She leans into me, her lips slightly parted, waiting for me to make the next move. She’s giving me the control, letting me know that she trusts me. Only I know I’m not trustworthy.
Rolling over on top of her, I press my body into hers. She may be small, but we fit together as if she were made just for me. Lying between her legs, I look into her eyes as my lips graze hers. She takes a deep breath, holding it, as if she’s gaining courage right before she jumps over the ledge.
My lips crash into hers, taking control of my mind and body. When her lips part, my tongue explores her mouth. She tastes sweet and smells like heaven. I feel the exact moment her resolve disappears, when she lets her walls down. She relaxes against me, and her tongue meets mine, igniting a fire inside of me that I’m not sure I would put out if I could.
My hands find their way to her thighs, pushing her t-shirt above her waist. I wrap my hand around her thigh and lift it up to her chest. Rolling my hips into her, I realize there are only two pieces of thin cloth separating us. A low moan in her throat vibrates across my lips as I kiss down her neck, driving me as crazy as it does her. Her hand traces soft patterns over my shoulder and down my back. My body begs for release.
When her hips drive into me, I allow my fingers to travel up her thigh to her hip, blazing a trail wherever they touch. I pull back from her, just enough to press my hand to her, between our tangled bodies. She arches her back, and her hips rise off the bed. My god, she’s beautiful like this, eyes closed, riding my hand.
I don’t realize how close she is until she clenches her thighs and bucks against me. As she continues to move against my hand, I know this is what I needed. It is the only thing that’s going to stop the ache inside me.
I’m looking down, into her face, when she opens her eyes. Her face is flushed, her lips swollen, and she’s so fuckin’ exquisite that she takes my breath away. I want to dive back into her, but she pulls back and turns her head, looking away.
“No, Quince. Look at me.” When she raises her eyes to me, even in the dark, I can see her insecurities hiding. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about, Quince. That is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.” I linger, staring into her eyes so she will see that I mean it. When I roll off of her, I pull her into my side. It just feels so right to lay with her like this. But deep down inside, I know I’ve crossed the line. No going back.
Sydney Lane lives in Nashville, TN with her husband and children. Growing up in Smalltown, USA, Sydney dreamed of being a writer. After spending an obscene amount of money to go to college, Sydney finally decided to follow her heart. With her babies in bed and husband neglected, she worked by the light of her laptop and wrote Choices. Sydney is very active in charity work for anti-bullying and depression awareness groups.