An all-new second chance romance is coming in A.L. Jackson’s Confessions of the Heart series in April, and we have the gorgeous cover and a little sneak peek.
A smirk pulled at the corner of Maxon’s mouth where he had me backed against the wall. “You act like I have some other place to be.”
Redness flushed. “Don’t act like you don’t have plenty of people to entertain you.” I hoped it didn’t sound like bitterness, like scorn, but it was hard to keep that from quivering in my voice.
He moved even closer and planted his hands over my head. So close I could feel need oozing from his skin, his breath on my face, blueberries and ice. “There’s no one else, Izzy. No one I want. No one I can’t breathe without. It’s always been you.”
Desire pulled at my stomach, knottin’ it up tight. I pressed my thighs together, and he caught it, scenting my need.
Hot air puffed out of his nostrils like the dragon he was, and I was shivering. Shaking like a leaf.
He moved his hand, slowly, watching me carefully as he dropped it down and placed it on my bare thigh.
Right up under the skirt of my dress.
The breath left me on a staggered gasp. Tingles flashed. Flames licking and lapping.
My body begged to come alive under his touch.
“Izzy, baby,” he murmured, and oh God, I sagged, my back pressed to the wall. Hooked. Knowing how fast this man could make me fall.
Those eyes pinned me, keeping me in place, while his hand squeezed my leg.
He edged down, nose brushing mine, a soft inhale between his lips.
Breathing me in.
Then he pressed his mouth to mine. Featherlight.
Didn’t matter how soft it was.
Lightning streaked. A crack of thunder in the air.
He pressed our mouths tighter, lips closed, just this persistent pressure that felt so right.
Sensation rushed through my body.
This old love trying to bust free.
To climb out.
Reach for him.
Because I’d wanted it. Wanted to be with him so badly.
“Izzy,” he murmured at my lips.
“Maxon,” I whispered back.
That was it.