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a warm bath on a cold night. Her soul beckons me like a refreshing oasis in the dry desert. And her
heart beckons me like a safe harbor beckons a lost ship.
You mean lead with the fact that I m in love with you? I say as I tease her entrance with my
already stiff and throbbing head.
Yes. Always, always lead with that.
I m in love with you, Olivia Townsend, I whisper as I ease into her. I feel her sigh and I echo it.
I m in love with you, Cash Davenport.
I pull out of her until only my tip rests within her then I slide back in, a little deeper this time.
Promise you ll never leave me. Stay with me, Olivia. Come home with me tomorrow and stay.
She pauses, but only for a second. When she speaks, I can hear the smile in her voice.
I ll stay with you as long as you want me.
I ll want you with me forever. I never want to spend another night without you. Ever. I can t stand
the thought of something happening to you. I can t stand the thought of us fighting. I can t stand the
thought of you being anything other than deliriously happy. With me.
Then consider me deliriously happy. With you. Always.
Always, I repeat as I cover her mouth with mine. She sighs again as I move inside her. This
time, I breathe it in, her breath becoming a part of me as much as she herself has become a part of me.
And that s the way I like it, because I don t plan on giving either of them back. Not now, not ever.
EPILOGUE- Nash
Between waking up in a strange place and the drugs that damn back-alley doctor gave me, I m a
little disoriented when I open my eyes. The first thing I notice is that there s a great smelling woman
curled up against my side. The second thing I notice is that her leg draped over mine has given me a
raging hard-on.
Details of what happened and where I am come back in a slow trickle. I m not in much pain, which
surprises me. I figured that bastard probably stuck me with a knife dipped in horse shit or something.
But I feel pretty all right as far as that goes.
Until I hear the familiar voice of my brother from the other room, that is. He s talking quietly on
the phone.
Did you do this?
A pause.
You know exactly who this is, he growls. Did. You. Do. This?
Another pause.
Trust you? You re crazier than
I hear a sigh that turns into another growl before he mutters, What the hell are we gonna do now?
I have to make adjustments to protect the people I love.
It doesn t take a genius to figure out what he s talking about my little motorcycle accident. Cash
worries too much about everyone else.
But not me.
I have one mission. Just one. And it s looking more and more like my plans to destroy the
organization that took Mom s life will be a solo effort.
If there s one thing I ve learned in life since I left home seven years ago, it s that I can trust no one.
And that includes family.
TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK 3
With Nash
Turn to the back for an excerpt of the
New York Times Bestselling Novel
By M. Leighton
THE WILD ONES
A FINAL WORD
A few times in life, I ve found myself in a position of such love and gratitude that saying
THANK YOU seems trite, like it s just not enough. That is the position that I find myself in now
when it comes to you, my readers. You are the sole reason that my dream of being a writer has
come true. I knew that it would be gratifying and wonderful to finally have a job that I loved so
much, but I had no idea that it would be outweighed and outshined by the unimaginable pleasure
that I get from hearing that you love my work, that it s touched you in some way or that your life
seems a little bit better for having read it. So it is from the depths of my soul, from the very
bottom of my heart that I say I simply cannot THANK YOU enough. I ve added this note to all
my stories with the link to a blog post that I really hope you ll take a minute to read. It is a true
and sincere expression of my humble appreciation. I love each and every one of you and you ll
never know what your many encouraging posts, comments and e-mails have meant to me.
http://mleightonbooks.blogspot.com/2011/06/when-thanks-is-not-enough.html
Other books by M. Leighton
Beginnings: An M. Leighton Anthology
Blood Like Poison: For the Love of a Vampire
Blood Like Poison: Destined for a Vampire
Blood Like Poison: To Kill an Angel
Caterpillar
Down to You
Fragile
Gravity
Madly
Madly & the Jackal
Madly & Wolfhardt
The Reaping
The Reckoning
The Wild Ones
Wiccan
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THE WILD ONES
By
M. Leighton
CHAPTER ONE- Cami
Sipping my beer, I look around at the familiar scene. If the honky tonk music blaring from the
speakers in the ceiling hadn t been enough to scream COUNTRY BAR, the sea of cowboy hats would
have been. I smile as I adjust the black one that sits atop my own head. I love being incognito. Even
if, by chance, someone I know stumbles into the smoke-filled dive, they d never believe it was me
looking out from beneath the brim.
Something hits the back of my barstool hard just as I put the glass to my lips. Ice cold beer
pours down my chin and straight into my cleavage. I suck in a breath.
Scuse me, a deep voice rumbles in my ear. Two hands grip my upper arms and pull me back,
keeping me from tipping right out of my seat. I m looking down at my soggy jeans and t-shirt when I
feel the hands disappear. Half a second later, a face appears in my line of sight. I m so sorry. Are
you okay?
My fingers stop plucking wet cotton away from my chest and I stare. Quite rudely, I might add. I m
speechless. Literally. And that, like, never happens to me.
The most amazing eyes I ve ever seen are staring back at me. They are pale greenish-gray, rimmed
in sooty lashes and filled with concern.
A sharp jab to my shin makes me let out the breath I hadn t been aware of holding. I see my best
friend Jenna s head poke out from behind the mystery face. I know she kicked me and I know she s
trying to get my attention, but I can t look away from these eyes long enough to glare at her.
God, his eyes! I ve never seen eyes that make me want to gasp and giggle and do a strip tease all at
once. But these do.
They flicker down, letting me go just long enough to collect my wits. I find very few of them. They
are well and truly scattered. When he looks back up at me, his eyes are wrinkled at the corners. He s
smiling. And holy hell, what a smile it is!
Does it make me a bad person for liking your shirt better this way?
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