A stand-alone second-chance romance in A.L. Jackson’s Confessions of the Heart Series… Coming April 22nd
Maxon Chambers has a way of stealing all the attention.
All my affection, and all my dreams.
What I needed to remember was he’d stolen my good judgment and my virginity, too.
When he broke up with me, I ran across the country and swore I’d never return to Broadshire Rim.
But here I am, thirteen years later.
Maxon is all grown up.
Sexier than sin and more tempting than ever.
A detective on the Charleston force, he lives on the outside of safety, devoted to protecting the people of his city.
But with the way he’s looking at me now? I’m pretty sure what needs protecting is my heart.
Can we mend the pieces of us? Or will he leave my heart shattered forever . . .
A smirk pulled at the corner of Maxon’s mouth where he had me backed against the wall. “You act like I have some other place to be.”
Redness flushed. “Don’t act like you don’t have plenty of people to entertain you.” I hoped it didn’t sound like bitterness, like scorn, but it was hard to keep that from quivering in my voice.
He moved even closer and planted his hands over my head. So close I could feel need oozing from his skin, his breath on my face, blueberries and ice. “There’s no one else, Izzy. No one I want. No one I can’t breathe without. It’s always been you.”
Desire pulled at my stomach, knottin’ it up tight. I pressed my thighs together, and he caught it, scenting my need.
Hot air puffed out of his nostrils like the dragon he was, and I was shivering. Shaking like a leaf.
He moved his hand, slowly, watching me carefully as he dropped it down and placed it on my bare thigh.
Right up under the skirt of my dress.
The breath left me on a staggered gasp. Tingles flashed. Flames licking and lapping.
My body begged to come alive under his touch.
“Izzy, baby,” he murmured, and oh God, I sagged, my back pressed to the wall. Hooked. Knowing how fast this man could make me fall.
Those eyes pinned me, keeping me in place, while his hand squeezed my leg.
He edged down, nose brushing mine, a soft inhale between his lips.
Breathing me in.
Then he pressed his mouth to mine. Featherlight.
Didn’t matter how soft it was.
Lightning streaked. A crack of thunder in the air.
He pressed our mouths tighter, lips closed, just this persistent pressure that felt so right.
Sensation rushed through my body.
This old love trying to bust free.
To climb out.
Reach for him.
Because I’d wanted it. Wanted to be with him so badly.
“Izzy,” he murmured at my lips.
“Maxon,” I whispered back.
That was it.
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A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. She writes emotional, sexy, heart-filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.