Jackson Steele and Sylvia Brooks are back in the powerful finale of a provocative, sizzling-hot new erotic trilogy set in the world of J. Kenner’s beloved Stark novels: Release Me, Claim Me, and Complete Me.
He’s the only man I’ve ever loved, and the one man I can’t bear to lose.
Jackson Steele is my light in this world. Charismatic, bold, and always in control, he knows what he wants and how to get it—and absolutely nothing stands in his way. His hold on me is magnetic, his claim on me complete, his kiss my ultimate escape.
We both harbor dark secrets that could tear our lives apart. Though we’ve tried to bury our pasts, there are certain people who won’t let us forget. But the closer danger comes, the brighter the fire between us burns—our ecstasy consuming and soothing us both.
There’s no telling what lies ahead, but I know that Jackson never gives in without a fight. I’d do anything he wants to keep him safe, give him anything he needs. And now that we’re in deep, nothing can make me run.
Under My Skin is intended for mature audiences.
“It’s
okay. Everything is fine.” Jackson’s voice is soft and soothing,
and I force myself to relax. We’re in the jet, and I’d been sound
asleep. Now Jackson eases me against him, and I gratefully comply,
thinking that maybe air travel isn’t such a bad thing if it means
that Jackson will hold me close and safe, his arm tight around my
shoulders.
I
sigh, cherishing the comfort that he’s offering. I have said
nothing to him about the grayness that seems to fill the space
between us. Instead, I am clinging like a beggar to each and every
subtle connection. Every brush of his fingers against mine. Every
press of his hand upon my back as he guides me. Every soft glance,
every gentle smile.
It’s
not enough, though. We have always fit together, Jackson and I, like
pieces in a puzzle. But now it feels as if someone has bent the
pieces and the fit is awkward and slightly off, and that disconnect
is making me crazy. I don’t think I can stand it much longer, and
soon I’m going to have to confront him. To grab him hard and pull
him back, and then demand to know why the hell he’s so far away
from me—and then hope that he doesn’t run even further.
