Wait
From NYT & USA Today bestselling author comes a new Bleeding Stars
stand-alone novel…
She is his strength and he is her weakness. And this time he won’t let
her go.
Edie Evans is
gorgeous.
Sexy.
Kind.
She’s also the
definition of off-limits.
But that didn't stop me from sneaking into her room to comfort her at
night.
But guys like me? We destroy everything, so it should have been no
surprise when I destroyed us, too.
The night I sent her
running, I thought I’d never see her again.
Until I saw her
standing like a vision in the crowd.
Austin Stone is
dangerous.
Alluring.
Tempting.
He broke my heart
and I refused to give him the chance to do it again.
It’s been years since I’ve seen him, and now I can’t do anything but
stare at the gorgeous, tattooed man playing onstage. I should run. I know I
should. But like a fool, I run straight back to him.
Our desire is overpowering.
Our desire is overpowering.
Our need unrelenting.
She is my hope.
She is my hope.
He is my weakness.
We should have known a passion this intense would burn us right into the ground.
We should have known a passion this intense would burn us right into the ground.
Excerpt
“Shit,”
I hissed, bracing myself against the spray of the icy shards pelting from the shower
head.
I
sucked in a breath, released it between clenched teeth, and forced myself fully
under it.
Head
dropped and chest heaving as rivers of ice-cold water slicked down my shoulders
and back.
But
it did nothing to lessen the need. Gave me no sanity or pacification.
Because
all I could think about was the girl on the other side of the door.
My
girl.
In
my bed.
Wearing
just her panties and my shirt.
An
angel I wanted to dirty.
I
always had.
Love
was messy like that.
All
of my restraint scattered. I gripped my cock. Squeezed the base. My mouth
dropped open at the pressure of my hand against my rigid length.
A
fool thinking it might be enough.
Shit.
God,
I was a bastard, but there was nothing I could do before I was giving in,
leaning forward and bracketing my forearm above my head to hold my weight.
Water
pounded down on my head and back while I pounded my fist against my dick.
Trying
to keep silent when all I wanted was to moan, teeth digging into my bottom lip
as I pictured the girl spread out for me.
My
breaths were coming short.
Panted
and hard.
I
gave into imagining the sounds she would make when I finally got to bury myself
in her body.
A
soft, soft gasp.
I
slowed, trying to convince myself that throaty sound was all in my mind.
Just
another part of this fantasy.
Until
I heard the small thump against the wall.
Shit.
I
mashed my eyes closed, like it might hide me.
Conceal
the depravity of my actions after I’d just been comforting her hours before.
Heart
thrashing, I turned and moved far enough to peek out the small section where
the fabric shower curtain hadn’t been drawn fully closed.
It
was just a little sliver that left me exposed.
But
it was enough. When I peered out, I was looking right at my girl pressed up
against the wall.
She
stared right back at me.
And
I wanted to be horrified, my mind scrambling to conjure every weak apology I
could summon. Ready to fucking grovel to keep her from turning and running once
again.
Because
that’s exactly what I expected her to do.
But
her expression…her expression clutched me in the center of the chest and sent what
little brain function I had left stampeding south.
Red,
lush lips were parted, her hand pressed to her hollow of her throat, pupils
dilated so big that her hooded, cerulean eyes appeared black. Needy breaths
were coming at me from that sweet mouth like a goddamned freight train.
Desire
swelled in the confines of the too-tight room.
Alive.
She
pressed deeper into the wall as if it might support her weakened knees. Head
rocked back. Thighs squeezing together.
Motherfuck.
My
hand shot to the shower wall to steady myself. “Warning you, Edie, you need to
get out of here. Right now.” 
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A.L. Jackson is the New York Times bestselling author of contemporary and new adult romance.
She first found a love for writing during her days as a young mother and college student. She filled the journals she carried with short stories and poems used as an emotional outlet for the difficulties and joys she found in day-to-day life.
Years later, she shared a short story she’d been working on with her two closest friends and, with their encouragement, this story became her first full length novel. A.L. now spends her days writing in Southern Arizona where she lives with her husband and three children.
Connect with A.L. Jackson online: www.aljacksonauthor.com
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