SPEED KING, an all-new contemporary romance from Ahren Sanders, is available now!
My name is Achilles Kingston.
And it’s finally my time…
All it took was four little words…
“Um, hi. Achilles right?”
The moment I turned at the sound of her voice, my world shifted.
Nervous, sweet, and completely off-limits, Harley Jacobs, was standing there, eyeing me with purpose.
Once the fiery beauty claimed me, I didn’t stand a chance.
She became my siren, a constant that kept away my darkness. Gave me a shot at a beauty I’d never thought possible.
The day I left her behind, my purpose was clear.
Become the man worthy of her.
Now, I’m back.
The rebellious teenage bad-boy is long gone.
I’ve fought wars, saved lives, lost friends, and mourned the deaths of brothers. During this time, one thing never changed.
My obsession with Harley.
Nothing prepared me for what happens when the insanely breathtaking bombshell rocks my world again. The sweet, shy girl I left years ago is now all woman, testing my iron-clad restraint every chance she can.
Harley is impossible to resist, obliterating my plans and self-control with a single glance.
I walked away once, taking the biggest risk of my life.
My name is Achilles Kingston.
And it’s finally my time.
DOWNLOAD YOUR COPY NOW!
Amazon | Apple Books | Kobo | Nook
My eyes fly open and take a few seconds to adjust to the low light coming from the hallway, but when they do, I’m staring at a black serpentine form. The same shape tattooed on Achilles’ ribcage. My body goes rock solid when I realize where I am and exactly what I’m doing.
My hand isn’t gripping my sheet, it’s clutching the waistband of his shorts. My leg isn’t settled between my extra pillows. It’s nestled between his thighs. And the pounding in my ears isn’t excitement from my dream, it’s the beat of his heart against my cheek.
My gaze darts across his broad chest and I recognize the fabric of the sofa. I rack my brain, trying to figure out how we ended up this way. The fog lifts and it comes back to me slowly.
Ever so gently, I dislodge my fingers from his waistband and reach for my phone lying next to his shoulder. His hand flies up, captures my wrist, and flattens my palm on his chest.
His eyes remain closed, and I take a second to appreciate the view. The dark stubble covering his cheeks and chin, his hair spiked in every direction, the thick eyelashes fanning out. Even unconscious, he’s sinfully sexy.
Drool threatens to dribble down my chin so I try to figure out another way to move without disturbing him. His torso shifts inward, and this is my opportunity. I inhale deep and roll the other way. This doesn’t work, mainly because his grip on my wrist turns vice-like and his other arm hauls me back. Now I’m full out on top of him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His deep, drowsy voice causes a stir in my belly.
“I didn’t mean to wake you. I was trying to—”
“Give you space.”
“Does it seem like I want space?”
“I am practically attached to you.”
“Does it seem like I want space?” he repeats, pressing down on the small of my back to emphasize his point.
In this position, I can feel every ridge and plane of his body, including the hardness against my hip. I make the mistake of jiggling sideways, and his eyes grow heated at the friction.
“Baby, you slide one more time, we’ll have issues.”
“Sorry.” I chew on my lip and hold motionless. “If you let me go, I promise to roll off slowly.”
“Christ, Harley.” It’s hard to determine if he’s aggravated with me for waking him or frustrated with the fact that I’m sprawled on top of him like a horny teenager. The heat in his eyes glitters and his lips tip upward. “You into slow torture? Cause that’s what will happen if you try to get away from me again.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad when I put you here?”
Now, my stomach does an all-out flip, and a thrill races through my veins. “You wanted me to plaster myself to your side?”
About Ahren Sanders:
Ahren spent her formative years living in an active volcano. There her family made collectible lava art. She studied rock collecting at the Sorbonne in France. There she met the love of her life-her pet pig Sybil. She returned to the states and started writing. She is happily married to a guy who used to live under a bridge and she met while pole-dancing.
Now, meet the real me. I grew up in the south and consider myself a true “Southerner”. Most of the special locations mentioned in my books are reflections of my favorite places. Living on the Florida coast, my family spends a lot time at the beach which is where I usually can be found with a book in my hand.
Connect with Ahren: