Author: Rebecca Berto
Publisher: Self Published, (April 5th, 2013)
Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance
Add to: Goodreads
Order Online: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, The Book Depository
NOTE: This is a "New Adult" novel. Due to mature content this title is recommended for ages 17+
Synopsis: Secretly crushing
Crushed by a tragedy
Charlee May’s been crushing on Dexter Hollingworth since she was fifteen. Five years later, a horrific skiing disaster at Mason’s Ski Lift Resort leaves her millionaire dad critically injured and her mom dead at the hands of Dexter operating the lifts. Charlee is suddenly the sole caretaker for her little brother while their world falls apart.
Dexter couldn’t be more different from Charlee. He’s tattooed, avoids exclusive relationships and his Dad has a fair share of illegal dealings. With Dexter’s reputation, almost everyone believes he planned the Mason’s skiing disaster.
And after all these years he’s still crushing on Charlee May, the girl who’s too good for him.
When this cruel twist of fate ties Charlee’s family and Dexter’s reputation together, Charlee and Dexter wonder if their feelings are reciprocated, while Dexter discovers his dad is trying to steal the May’s millionaire fortune.
But like an addiction, one look, one touch, one taste—they’re hooked no matter the consequences.
Disclaimer: Recommended for mature readers due to sexual content and crude language.
Charlee looks like her mind’s in another world for a moment, staring at me. She’s not looking at my eyes, but through me. She grins, but she turns before I can see it light up her face. Her hair covers her expression as she tucks her chin away. What on earth has she got to be embarrassed about?
“Hang on a sec,” Charlee says to me. She steps out of her car, into the drizzle. She tucks some wild hair blowing in the wind behind her ear and I still see it. That grin. But she’s trying to desperately to hide it.
Maybe I’m already in? No, Dex, no. There’s no way that fucking angel is in any way “in” with you. Or that you deserve her or any reward.
Thinking of this makes my head spin, reminding me I absolutely need sugar right now because I’m not sure this stupid body can walk itself back home, argue with Dad for ten minutes and then manage to sneak into the pantry for sugar before completely collapsing.
I hate this all-too-familiar sensation—the wobbling, separating from my thoughts, as if this isn’t my body and I’m stuck in this useless thing that won’t do as I say.
“Dex!” Charlee has my arm. She has my arm—my arm that’s rigid from pleasure, from her touch—in her little fingers. She holds my other one, too and she’s right there, that sweet candy perfume stripping the rest of the strength from my body, and it escapes in a soft, breathy sigh.
Having her sweet candy scent in my head is going to be hell from now on.
“Here, get in my car. It’s pouring!”
Now I notice the rain. Was it like that earlier? Maybe it was always raining this hard. All I know is if I can make out the two melons of her breasts through her loose top, the rain must be coming down. And I must be out of it to not have realized the weather before.
It would be so easy to slip into her car. I’d make her laugh again, so she’d do that thing where she would grin and tuck her chin into her chest, yet she couldn’t wipe me from her mind, and then I could brush my fingers over her cheeks to behind her neck where I could pull her to me. I know she’d like that. All girls do.
But this can’t happen. I killed her mom. I’m responsible for her dad’s life hanging in the balance—which I hear about daily, thanks to mom’s updates. I deserve punishment. Why am I allowed to live my life as if nothing happened? I hate being let off without resolution. As much as I didn’t want to lose my friends, as much as I hate the stares, the egg-throwing and mass public hate, it gives me something to feel. I should be hated for ruining Charlee’s family. She should hate me.
Right now, all I know when I see her grin at me, and grip my arm and look like an angel is that I do not deserve this. I don’t deserve any pleasure from Charlee when I’m the one responsible for taking away all her pleasure in life.
What I really deserve is to watch her slip away. It would be the only real thing I’d feel when I’m confused and hating myself. It would hurt so bad that it would have to be real compared to the nightmare I now live.
But that means using her as a prop in my punishment, and that’s worse.
We share the same look for a moment, her eyes on my face and mine on hers. This moment is ours. My hand is so close to her hip that I could…
“Is he coming, Charlee?” Darcy yells over the rumble of the rain.
Charlee says, “Coming back now. Don’t worry.”
I can’t stop myself from wondering if her bra is black or gray.
She gives me a weird look so maybe she caught me. Good. Maybe now she’ll go and leave me—but then she does something really stupid and says, “You’re absolutely coming with me, Dexter. It’s pouring and you look like you’re going to faint.”
“Actually,” I say, and I’m grinning from ear to ear, like a total douche, “I think…”
My cell goes off. Saved by the bell. My crotch hates this moment, but my head knows I’ll look back and remember this as the best possible interruption.
About the Author:
Rebecca Berto is the author or the dark contemporary/literary novella, PRECISE and the upcoming new adult contemporary romance novel, DROWNING IN YOU. She is also a freelance editor.
She writes stories that are a bit sexy, and straddle the line between Literary and Tear Your Heart Out. She gets a thrill when her readers are emotional reading her stories, and gets even more of a kick when they tell her so. She’s strangely imaginative, spends too much time on her computer, and is certifiably crazy when she works on her fiction.
Rebecca Berto lives in Melbourne, Australia with her boyfriend and their doggy.
Find Rebecca Online:
Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook
Order Drowning In You Online:
Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Smashwords | Kobo
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