Chapters (30)
- Table of Contents
- Books by Hannah Murray
- Title Page
- Legal Page
- Book Description
- Dedication
- Content Warning
- Trademark Acknowledgements
- Epigraph
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Author’s Note
- Read more from Hannah Murray
- Get your copy now
- More exciting books!
- About the Author
She sniffed. “Uh-huh. So did Jack. Well, he didn’t say pigeon-pecking, but the gist was the same.”
He didn’t have to feign surprise. “Those two agreed on something?”
“Well, they didn’t know they were agreeing.”
“That explains it.” He laid his lips on hers, savoring the way she curled into him. “What do you need, love?”
“Can we eat later?” She pressed her forehead to his, her eyelashes spiked with tears. “I just want to lie with you like this for a while.”
Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks blotchy, and her hair was a wreck. He’d never seen her more beautiful. “Forever, fofa,” he told her, folding her close with a sigh. “Forever.”
Author’s Note
Author’s Note
Those of you who are familiar with consensual non-consent probably already know that it’s common for people come to it as survivors of sexual trauma. Not everyone who is into CNC is a survivor, of course, but many are, for reasons for that are as varied and individual as the people themselves. I made the deliberate choice not to make that a part of Cade and Olivia’s story, simply because I didn’t feel equipped, either as a writer or as a survivor, to handle it properly.
Read more from Hannah Murray
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Dark and Deadly:
Show Me Something Good
Hannah Murray
Excerpt
Kit Howard was having a shitty Saturday. Which, when she stopped to think about it, wasn’t surprising. The week leading up to it could best be described as ‘hellish’, so why should today be any different?
It had started out fine—hopeful, even. She’d slept late, a rare treat, and by the time she’d arrived at her favorite coffee shop, the morning rush had ended. She’d snagged the best booth by the window, and with a mocha latte and a cinnamon roll dripping with icing, had settled in to work.
Updating her résumé hadn’t taken long—she’d distilled the last two years of ten-hour days and ‘other duties as needed’ into one short paragraph and a handful of bullet points designed to entice future employers into hiring her. She had an enthusiastic, if somewhat floridly worded, recommendation from her previous boss, which would normally give her a solid leg up in her quest for fresh employment. But since he’d dictated the recommendation to his lawyer from the jail cell where he sat awaiting arraignment on twenty-three counts of embezzlement, tax fraud, and insider trading, she wasn’t counting on it.
Still, since it was his fault she was out of a job, it was the least he could do.