Who Really Is Deadlier???

I want someone to hold me, to tell me it will be okay, that it really wasn’t my fault, that I’m not to blame for everything. I need to hear that, need to believe it, if I have any hope of ever recovering from that day.

So when he pulls me into his arms, I allow myself to fall into them, breathing in the scent of his cologne until it makes me dizzy. The tears flow from my eyes and his arms tighten around me in response. It only makes me cry harder. 

Time pretty much stops, and I don’t care if I stay here wrapped in his embrace forever. He holds me, rubbing a hand down my back as my sobs finally quiet. Even after I told him…actually, screamed at him…that I hate him.

Is he a glutton for punishment or what?

He doesn’t speak at all, and thank fuck for that because I have no idea what is happening to me and I’m afraid of what may come spewing out of my mouth if I open it. His fingers stroke the back of my neck and my spine suddenly morphs into a limp spaghetti noodle. Ohhh…what is he doing with those magical fingers? He’s making me forget, distracting me from the toxins flooding my veins, all by innocently targeting an erogenous zone I never even knew existed.

My knees buckle, my arms tentatively reaching around his muscular back. 

I’m not a hugger. At least, I’m not anymore.

But this…I could get used to this. 

His head drops on top of mine, his warm lips resting against my hair. Goosebumps shoot up my arms and down my legs, despite the fact that they’re covered in velour. I’ve never been so affected by…sentiment.

Holy crap. 

Who the fuck am I?

Crushing the Mob is coming to your Kindles on JULY 8!!!

Click here to add it to Goodreads!

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