Can a rockstar with a bad reputation convince a sheltered young artist that loving him is worth any risk?
Until last year, I had it all. Fame. Fortune. Family.
One horrible decision nearly destroyed everything
I've been tormented by guilt ever since.
Until the moment I set eyes on her.
Everleigh Townsend is the light to my dark. My muse. My future.
But she wants nothing to do with me.
Convincing her that I'm not the out-of-control rockstar I used to be will take a miracle.
But I'll talk the devil into heaven if that's what it takes to make her mine.
My whole life, I've had one goal. To paint like the masters.
Now, my goal is within reach, but I feel it slipping further away.
Every time Saint Greenway touches me, everything else disappears.
The world says he's a monster. He agrees.
But I've never felt as whole as I do when I'm with him.
Until my parents find out about us, and my life spins out of control.
How can loving someone be wrong when it feels so right?
When this older rockstar falls for a young college student, he'll do whatever it takes to convince her to give him a chance. If redeemed bad boys, sugary-sweet romance, and scorching hot romance sound like a good time to you, you'll love this Wicked Saint and his muse! As always, Nichole Rose books come complete with a sticky-sweet and guaranteed HEA.
"Will you please stop trying to hold my hand?" I huff, trying to pull away again.
That's it. Nope.
Just one infuriating word.
I'm not sure what possesses me to do it. Temporary insanity, maybe. But I bring our linked hands up close to my mouth and bite his forearm. Hard.
He growls and then I'm pressed up against the wall with his hard body against mine. I'm not even sure how it happens. He just…moves me like it's nothing. His forest-green eyes sear into me, burning like a brand. He doesn't look mad, but his eyes blaze with deadly heat.
"Bite me again and you'll be pregnant with my kid before you can say my name, Everleigh," he growls, pressing his body against mine. And oh my god. He feels good. Everywhere.
My entire body ignites in a rush of desire that leaves me gasping for breath. He really is hard everywhere, like a stone slab. Except he's burning hot, his body trembling against mine like he feels the same thing I do. As if he aches like I do.
"You c-can't talk to me like that." I don't even recognize my own voice. It's breathy, more of a moan than actual speech.
"Yeah?" His handsome face looms closer, his nose skimming down my temple toward my ear. That simple touch sends shards of pleasure stabbing into me. My entire body buzzes with electricity, short-circuiting my system. "I see the way you keep looking at me. I bet if I touched your panties right now, they'd be wet for me, wouldn't they?"
"N-no," I lie.
I expect him to call me out on it, but he doesn't. He presses his lips to my cheek in a soft kiss and then steps back, putting space between us. His dark eyes rove over me again, his expression softening. "Come on, baby. I promise I'll get you to class as soon as we figure this shit out."
I gape at him for a moment, my head spinning. One minute, he's saying filthy things to me. The next, he's being sweet as pie. I'm not sure which I like more. Both, I think.
There's no way I'm telling him that.
Just because I dream about him doesn't mean I like him. Just because he sets my body on fire doesn't mean I want him.
Except…I do. On both counts.
Nichole Rose writes filthy, feel-good romance for curvy readers. Her books feature headstrong, sassy women and the alpha males who consume them. From grumpy detectives to country boys with attitude to instalove and over-the-top declarations, nothing is off-limits.