Two rivals from opposing families fight their forbidden attraction to each other in the brand new romance from ;;;;As the middle Jaeger brother, Dallas was often lost in the shuffle growing up. As a man, he’s prideful of his community on the wrong side of the tracks--Sanoa Bay--and aggressively protective of his land and his inner circle. He’s hungry and ready for a fight. ;;;;Callum Ames has a reputation in St. Carmen, the affluent neighborhood abutting Sanoa Bay. The hottest. The most popular. Rich. Powerful. Strong. The one all the women want. After four years away, he’s back, but for all his bravado, he’s got one major secret: he only looks at Dallas Jaeger. ;;;;Summer is storm season on the coast. Heat, wind, rain… ;;;;Lockdown and curfew. ;;;;As Dallas and Callum engage, out for each other''s blood, they can''t stop the consuming fire between them and the outcome they already see coming... ;;;;The storm of the century.

Autorentext

Penelope Douglas is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author. Their books have been translated into twenty languages and include the Fall Away series, the Hellbent series, the Devil’s Night series, and the stand-alones Misconduct, Punk 57, Birthday Girl, Credence, and Tryst Six Venom. They live in New England with their husband and daughter.

Leseprobe
*DALLAS
*
I look up at Callum Ames again, an idea occurring to me. He’s been staring at me for ten minutes. If he has me alone, maybe he’d like a closer look.

I tip my chin at the potted palm on his balcony. “Want me to tend to that plant before I go?” I ask.

He holds my gaze for a few seconds. “Come up,” he says.

Entering through one of the patio doors, I head down a white hallway of marble and gold trim everywhere. Gold mirrors, gold picture frames, gold trinkets. The floors shine, and as I come up on a stairwell to my right, I look up to the second and third floors, imagining a definitive death for anyone who falls. Everything is clean and bright and hard, and for a second, I’m a little more forgiving toward Macon and Army. I could always sit on the furniture, and nothing ever felt cold in our house.

How much prettier this place would be if I got a rich boy to beg in it.

I find my way upstairs, passing photos on the walls of his family and of a woman who looks like him. Unlike my mother’s pictures, though, her smiles seem real.

Walking into the bedroom, I trail down a short hallway and come into a large space that looks like a hotel room. The girl I saw earlier lies propped up on her elbows on his bed, still in her swimsuit, and there’s also a dresser, a desk, and a private bathroom.

I find him outside the sliding doors to my right, still standing on his balcony.

I step up behind him and let my eyes trail over his hair and down his neck. I almost smile at his exhibit of courage right now, letting me get this close. How easy it would be for me to push him.

Instead, I curb the temptation and kneel down, picking off dead fronds and debris in the large gray pot.

Turning his head, he peers down. “You did sign a nondisclosure agreement when you took this job, right?”

What would I have to talk about? The underage drinking? His father treating him like shit? His parents fighting?

Or maybe it’s something about his stepsister. Yeah, that’s it.

“If I was going to talk,” I say, continuing my task, “you would know. This would be a very different conversation.”

“How so?”

Rising, I stuff all the leaves in my pocket, closing the distance between us by an inch. Then two. “Are you scared of us?” I ask him.

His brow pinches together, but he doesn’t reply.

I stand up straight, my nose just above his. “Are you scared of me?”

Still, he doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t want you to be,” I tell him.

How boring would that be? I want him to try me. Please.

His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, and a moment passes, then several, and I’m not sure what to do, because there are so many possibilities. I could make him bleed or make him—

He lunges out and grabs my neck, backing me into the side of the balcony as he bares his teeth.

It takes a second to catch my breath as the railing digs into my ass.

“I can do whatever I want right now,” he whispers, glaring up at me, “and I’d get away with it. That’s your reality.”

I try not to laugh—my pulse is racing in a way that feels so goddamn good. Everything inside me is so warm—my heart, my arms, the blood pumping in my veins—but I still have chills. No one has ever wrapped a hand around my neck before, but there’s something intimate about it. His grip isn’t quite tight enough to hurt me, just to keep me.

“Maybe,” I breathe out. “But when I’m mowing your fucking lawn someday, I’m not signing shit.” I press against his hand, bringing our faces closer as I whisper. “But you’ll still hire me.” And I smile. “Even though you’re scared of me.”

’Cuz you like looking at me, don’t you? Not even these rich pricks’ precious Wolfe Room can occupy his mind like I already do.

I knock his hand away, his glare meeting my amusement. What the fuck is he going to do?

Thunder rolls across the sky, the wind kicking up the palms on his balcony.

“Rain’s coming.” I walk back into the bedroom, issuing my challenge if he fucking dares to accept it. “The Bay will be on fire tonight.”

As I leave, I don’t seriously believe he’ll come, though. He’s the kind who’s only tough on his own turf.