My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I seem to be on a cheating, love triangle streak lately and seriously, I don’t know why? Yes, I love me some angst so maybe that’s it. I just know that it’s also emotionally exhausting!
If cheating is a hard limit for you, this isn’t for you.
I first read Jessica with Slip of the Tongue and quickly discovered that she’s exceptional at capturing the emotions of this dynamic. She builds the tension, turmoil and passion beautifully.
Olivia’s a happily married woman and doesn’t appear to be missing anything until David Dylan. One look shared between the two and we’re got the promise of forbidden passion, emotional conflict, and heady sex.
This was a slow build and at times, I thought it was too slow. I had my moments with Olivia where I didn’t get her and I worried that this might not work for me. And the secondary characters really didn’t interest me. But Jessica did it again. David Dylan. He was my connection with Liv, I understood the pull and I felt her crazy dilemma. The want; the need, but knowing it’s wrong.
Any scene with David had the fire and heat licking at my insides and around the halfway mark, things really picked up in a deliciously delectable way.
Jessica has a way with words. Her prose exquisitely delivers on the anticipation, the conflict and the undeniable attraction that has the main characters and reader in knots. This ends on a cliffy with two more books in this series.
**ARC provided by author in exchange for honest review.**
As the elevator ascended, David’s body seemed to grow bigger, his bearing predatory. I was his cornered prey—and he was about to strike. After a charged moment, he nodded at the doors. “Go on.” In my thickening haze of anticipation, I hadn’t even noticed our arrival at the penthouse. “We’re late for a very important date,” he said.
“And what date is that?” I asked as we stepped off.
“You, me and nothing else. Leave everything at the door.” He unlocked the apartment and held it open so I could pass through before him. As I did though, he snatched my elbow. “I said everything.”
Over my shoulder, my gaze met his brown eyes, dark and lusty. He let the door slam to merge his body against my backside, gripping my shoulders roughly in his hands. “I’ve been crazy for you all day,” he rasped in my ear. “And although I love this nude dress, I want it off. Now.” He dragged the zipper down and dropped to his knees. I gasped when his lips touched the base of my spine. His hands skated up my exposed back and slid over my shoulders, releasing the gown so it slumped at my feet. They came around to my front, where he spread his fingers across my stomach. A moan vibrated against the small of my back, sending a shiver up to my shoulders.
He stood and wrapped an arm around my chest, his hardness pressing against my spine. His other hand dropped to pull me open by my inner thigh and touch me through my underwear. I was panting, swaying when he released me suddenly. “Jesus,” he muttered.
“I can’t control myself with you.”
Through oversized windows, the city glow lent the only light to the room as he circled in front of me. I put my hand in his and stepped out of the dress, following as he led me down the stairs into the sunken living room.
“Keep those on,” he instructed, motioning to my new black stilettos. He removed his blazer and lit the fireplace as my body, alive with desire, wavered unsteadily in the four-inch heels. He emptied his pockets onto a side table and removed his Rolex. He undid his bowtie slowly with his hooded eyes fixed on me. His limbs, strong and brawny, moved fluidly as he shed clothing. I wanted to learn the contours of his body with my eyes, my fingers, my tongue. And when he looked at me that way, like it was the first time, I could barely help from melting at his feet.
Jessica Hawkins grew up between the purple mountains and under the endless sun of Palm
Springs, California. She studied international business at Arizona State University and has
also lived in Costa Rica and New York City. To her, the most intriguing fiction is forbidden,
and that's what you'll find in her stories. Currently, she resides wherever her head lands,
which is often the unexpected (but warm) keyboard of her trusty MacBook.