Complete
Corruption by CD Reiss is
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Can
be read as a STANDALONE! Theresa Drazen can have plenty of guys, but
the one she can't keep away from....the one she's just about addicted
to, is more than forbidden. With felony-black eyes and a mouth built
for lies, loving him is one step away from illegal.
But
her body keeps overriding her brain. Maybe it's time to stop playing
by the rules.
-------
Antonio
is obsessed. Theresa's the last woman he should touch. She's going to
get him killed. She's dangerous. Poison. The wrong woman.
Except...she's
perfect.
And
they both figure...one more time. Just one more time.
One
more time and they won't get caught.
One
more time and they won't get killed.
One.
More.
Time.......
complete
corruption.
An
excerpt
CD
Reiss
Copyright
© 2014
This
book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of
America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material
or artwork herein is prohibited.
This
book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real places, or
persons living or dead is purely coincidental
.
Cover
Art designed by the author
“Listen!”
I yanked back at his hand at the bottom of the stairs, but he yanked
me and swung me through a doorway.
The
choir dressing room was ancient with wooden lockers built in the
Depression. So, when he pushed me against them, there wasn’t a
clatter of sheet metal, but a thunk
as they rattled.
Antonio
grabbed me by the wrists, locking them together in two fingers and
holding them over my head.
“You
think I’m worried about him?” He put his finger to my face. “I
spend not one minute of my life thinking about that man with you.
He’s not even a man. He’s not worthy of you. He’s one of a
thousand rats on the bottom of a sinking ship.”
“Then
what’s the problem?” My question came out in a gasp because my
body gravitated toward him, arching to press against him, just as he
arched in the opposite curve to keep his face close to mine.
“Why
did you see him?” I could have kissed him, but I moved my head
against the locker door, turning my face toward the arched lead-glass
window. I wanted him, not in spite of his anger but because of it.
“He
went to Katrina. His team grilled her, and I don’t like it.”
“What
did they grill her about?”
He
knew damn well, but he wasn’t going to assume. I noticed that about
him. He never assumed anything or jumped to a conclusion.
“You,”
I whispered.
“Me.”
“You.”
“And
you told him what?” he said.
“To
stop. To leave you alone. That if he didn’t, I had enough on him to
make his life a living hell.”
“Do
you think you maybe should talk to me first, before you do crazy
shit?”
“No.”
I twisted and pulled my hands down. He let them go but increased his
weight on me, pushing me against the lockers. “You barely let me
out of an apartment that’s not even mine. I highly doubt you’d
let me see Daniel.”
“Because
it’s stupid and dangerous.”
“It’s
what I have to give. And it’s useful to you. And go to hell if you
don’t like it. I will never, ever sit still while he’s after
you.”
“I’m
already going to hell. Grazie.”
I
pushed him away, and he grabbed my jaw, holding me still while he put
his nose next to mine and spoke into my mouth. “You’re a loaded
gun. Do you see that? You’re from a different world, but you smell
like home to me. I haven’t been to Napoli in ten years, but
whenever you’re near me, I smell olive flowers. My heart gets sick
with thirst, but the water is poison.”
“Antonio—”
“I’m
drowning, Contessa.”
“What
are you talking about?”
His
face got tight, holding back a flood of emotion. His fingers pressed
harder on my face until I took hold of his wrist, pulling it down. He
let go.
“Talk
to me,” I said. “Just tell me.”
He
looked confused for a second. Overwhelmed. Then, as if the dam had
burst, he wrapped his arms around me and put his mouth to mine. It
happened so quickly that I didn’t kiss him back at first. I
couldn’t breathe; he held me so tight, but I got my arms around him
and my mouth open, pulling him close, pushing as much of myself as I
could into whatever part of him was within my reach. Thighs, hips,
hands, shoulders, lips bashing lips, tongues forceful on tongues. It
wasn’t even a kiss, or at least, not like one I’d ever had
before. It was a slap, a punch, the use of force, a coercion of two
worlds into uncomfortable cohesion.
The
kiss never got soft and only ended when he jerked himself away.
“Talk
to me,” I said in a breath.
“The
thing I want most is the only thing between me and getting it. You
are everything that will destroy me. I should go back to who I was.
But you made me dream I could be free, when I’d forgotten I was in
prison.”
“Is
this about you being honest? Is it about me seeing Daniel? Antonio.
If I hurt you, just tell me how. Let me make it right. Let me help
you get out.”
He
caressed my face with both palms with a tenderness that shouldn’t
have been able to contain such intensity.
“Sweet
olive blossoms,” he said. “That was God’s message to me.” He
stepped away, and the space between us became a sigh. He held his
hand. “The only way out is through.”
CD (Christine) Reiss is a USA Today and Amazon bestseller. She still has to chop wood and carry water, which was buried in the fine print. Her lawyer is working it out with God but in the meantime, if you call and she doesn’t pick up, she’s at the well, hauling buckets.
Born in New York City, she moved to Hollywood, California to get her master’s degree in screenwriting from USC. In case you want to know, that went nowhere, but it did embed TV story structure in her head well enough for her to take a big risk on a TV series structured erotic series called Songs of Submission. It’s about a kinky billionaire hung up on his ex-wife, an ingenue singer with a wisecracking mouth; art, music and sin in the city of Los Angeles.
Critics have dubbed the books “poetic,” “literary,” and “hauntingly atmospheric,” which is flattering enough for her to put it in a bio, but embarrassing enough for her not to tell her husband, or he might think she’s some sort of braggart who’s too good to give the toilets a once-over every couple of weeks or chop a cord of wood.
If you meet her in person, you should call her Christine.
