SYNOPSIS:

Whose bed is this? That was Kensie first thought as she peeled her eyes open to find herself in an unfamiliar room. She noted the crumpled red dress, tiny black thong, and Louboutin heels in the corner.

Whose arms are these? That was her second as the tattooed arms engulfing her tightened their grip. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Carefully, without waking up the man behind her, she reached for it. The name on the display read Prince Charming.

“Hello?”

“How are you still asleep at one in the afternoon?” Trey’s familiar baritone rang in her ear.

“Long night,” she rasped. The man behind her chuckled. His mouth warm on her ear.

“Well, wake up, my flight leaves in an hour, and I can’t wait to see you.”

“I can’t wait,” she said weakly.

What have I done? That was her third thought as the weight of her recklessness consumed her.

She cheated.

She was a cheater.

Lithium Tides: Book Two in the Lithium Springs Series. A Complete Standalone Novel.

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EXCERPT

Jamie and Ryder had disappeared shortly after dinner, leaving Kensie alone to entertain CT. They'd made it through about ten minutes of Netflix before the sex noises began. They did their best to ignore it, but even increasing the volume on the TV couldn't drown out the sound of her best friend's headboard banging against the wall. The spanking had been the final straw.

"Just go ahead and kill me now," Kensie groaned, her head falling back onto the black and white, upholstered accent chair. It wasn't the most comfortable seat in the house, but it was far enough away from CT that she could think straight.

"We can do better than that," he said with a wiggle of his brows.

"You wish," she mumbled.

"Is that a challenge?"

And just like that the playfulness of his tone was replaced with lust. He swept his tongue across his top lip and stood, eyes fixed on her as he walked the short distance to the chair. Before Kensie could protest, she was on her feet, her chest pressed against CT’s. "PG, remember,” she reminded him, or herself. Maybe they both needed the reminder.

"Yes, Friend, I remember," he responded before sitting down, pulling her onto his lap. Her heart pounded. His touch always managed to leave her breathless. His arms were like two steel bands wrapped around her middle, possessive, unyielding. Impossibly soft lips traced up her shoulder, then down to the base of her neck.

"I don't think friends are supposed to do that." Her voice was low and needy, completely at odds with her words.

"I'm the kind of friend who does that," he replied, gently biting the spot he'd just kissed so sweetly.

"And what kind of friend is that, exactly?"

"The kind who knows what you taste like."

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ABOUT CARMEL RHODES

Writer of words. Mother of Joy. Wife of Compassion. I like to write stories about real people who go through real struggles, and come out the other side stronger. I also like to write smut. Welcome to my brain. It’s a little screwed up, but always well intended.