Forsaking Gray
The Colloway Brothers Series
K.L. Kreig
Blurb
Lies.
When does hiding the truth to protect someone you love turn into deception?
Deception.
When does your unwavering trust turn into the ultimate betrayal?
Betrayal.
When is the truth more than it appears to be on the surface?
Within less than twenty-four hours of proposing to the love of his life, she disappeared. No note. No trace. No explanation. Nothing. Now, five years later, she’s resurfaced and Gray will stop at nothing to make Livia his again. But is love enough to forgive an unforgivable wrong?
Livia~
I had less than sixty seconds to make a decision that would forever change my life and those of the ones I loved.
I sacrificed.
I suffered.
I survived.
And no one must ever discover my shameful secret, especially him.
Gray~
I had dreams of a future with the woman who breathed the very life into my soul.
I was betrayed.
I was abandoned.
I was lost.
Now that she’s back, can I find it within myself to leave the past in the past and forgive so we can move forward and have the life I’d imagined?
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Excerpt
Gray
Livvy’s lips taste exactly as I remember. Warm, sweet and uniquely her. She’s intoxicating. She’s breathing life back into my broken heart, and I want nothing more at this moment than to be buried balls deep in her sweet, slick pussy so I can finally feel whole again. She couldn’t lie to me. She couldn’t tell me that she didn’t love me because I know the truth. I knew it the moment we looked into each other’s eyes three weeks ago.
She still does. Then why did she leave you?
I was lying when I told her I’d let her run. Now that I know she loves me, I’ll never let her leave me again.
No matter what.
Pain and darkness churn in her soul like witch’s brew, dulling her once bright eyes. I want to take it away. I want to tell her that absolutely nothing can make me stop loving her. Something happened, something she’s afraid to tell me, and I’m filled with regret that I gave up. I’m filled with self-loathing that I simply gave into the lies that were being fed to me. I failed her.
But right now I push all that to the back of my mind because, at this very moment, it’s irrelevant. Livvy’s here and she still loves me, which means she will be mine again.
And I aim to have a taste of what’s mine right fucking now.
I force myself to free her swollen lips from mine and lift her off my lap, setting her on the hard maple table. Smoky gazes locked on each other, I pull the blouse from her skirt and slowly draw it up over her head, waiting for her to protest. She doesn’t. I unhook her black lacy bra that cups her ample breasts like a fitted glove, letting it fall to the floor, expecting her to stop me. She won’t.
Neither of us speaks with our mouths, but we don’t have to. Everything that needs to be said flows between us, unspoken. We both want this with a desperation that’s almost burning out of control, belying the slow, reverent way I’m stripping her.
Physically.
Emotionally.
I break our connection and rake my gaze down every inch of her exposed skin. Her torso is bare and her skirt has ridden up almost to the top of her toned, snow-driven thighs. The darkness at the juncture of them calls my name. Chills rise on her flesh. Her berry-ripened nipples are as hard as erasers and my mouth waters for a taste, which I don’t deny myself.
She moans at the first flick of my tongue, her hands flying to my hair, pulling me closer. Fuck, yes. After only moments of teasing, I take her hardened nub in my mouth completely, sucking hard. I pluck the other between my thumb and forefinger.
“Gray,” she breathes. She remembers how hot we used to burn, just like I do.
Fuck, I’m as hard as a rock. I shouldn’t do this in my boardroom, but I’m unable to stop. The second my flesh touched hers I was a total goner.
I kiss and lave my way over to her other nipple because it’s begging for my attention too. Jesus Christ, she tastes good. No matter how many women I’ve been with, no one has, or ever will, compare to her. I’m like a starved man, unable to get enough. Unable to stop gorging. I have to be inside of her right now.
I reach behind to undo the zipper on her skirt when she stops me.
“Leave it,” she rasps.
I pull back to see what she’s really saying, knowing desperation is written all over my face. My cock pulses and my balls ache. “I need to fuck you, Livvy. Christ, I need to be inside of you right now.” I need to make you mine again.
Without a word, Livvy hops off the table, reaches under her skirt and removes matching black lace panties. Holding my eyes, she turns toward the table, leans over and shimmies up the offending fabric.
Fuck. Me. Her round, smooth ass is begging for my hand. Her glistening, bare dark pink lips are parted and my mouth hurts at the thought of tasting her.
“Sweet Jesus, angel,” I murmur, drawing a finger through her wetness, back to her puckered hole. I circle and tease, drawing a low moan from her now parted mouth.
“Fuck me, Gray. Please. I need you so much.” She sounds as frantic as I feel.
I want that too, but I’m not going to miss this opportunity to taste what’s mine either. I sit back in the chair. Rolling it close, I place her legs on either side of mine so they are now resting on the leather instead of the floor. I spread her silky thighs as far apart as they’ll go and lean in for my first lick.
And see fucking stars.
“Gray…” she groans, heavy head falling to the table.
“I’m going to eat this pussy, Livvy. My pussy. I’ve been denied it far too long.”
I grab her cheeks and spread them, using my thumbs to pull her nether lips apart and start to feast. I lick and suck until she’s moving frantically against my mouth, trying to reach the peak and fall over. I thrust my tongue into her soaking channel and feel her walls tighten around me. Jesus, how I’ve missed this.
“Gray, please, please,” she begs.
Dragging my wet thumb up to the place I know she craves it, I ease in, pulling a wail from her throat, causing her to writhe faster. I move another digit to her clit and start to circle deliberately, applying just the right amount of pressure.
She immediately detonates, crying my and God’s name over and over. It’s music to my deaf ears. I will never get enough of the way my Livvy sounds when she comes undone by my hand, or my mouth, or my cock. I let her ride my face and my fingers until she slows and her body sags.
Standing, I reach for her hips, gently turning over her boneless form. The only position that I’ve ever taken another woman in the last few years is from behind, so I don’t have to look at their faces. It made it easier to pretend they’re Livvy. So, the first time I take her after being apart for so long, I intend to look into her eyes as she bares her soul to me.
I want it.
I need it.
I crave it.
And I will have it as I sink my cock deep inside her.
“You’re so beautiful, Livvy,” my thick voice rasps. With her dark hair fanning out on the table, her fair skin radiating like starlight and the blissfully sated look on her face, she looks like an ethereal goddess spread out on an altar. My altar. Mine to take. I almost want to weep at the sight of her, and I have to keep telling myself repeatedly this is not a dream. This is real. She’s right before me, in the flesh. Her innate beauty makes me breathless.
Her lust-laden eyes hold mine as I quickly undress, my clothes joining hers in the pile on the floor beside me. With one push down of my navy boxer briefs, my straining, heavy cock springs free and it’s throbbing to finally be home. My hands slowly travel up her trembling legs as I ask the questions I’m burning to know before I fuck my fiancée for the first time in over five years. And I still think of her that way. She’s mine.
I know I should use a condom, but I can’t. It’s not like I carry them around in my pants pockets at work anyway, and I’m not waiting a minute longer to be inside her. And I don’t give a shit if she ends up pregnant. I want her to. I want to tie her to me for fucking ever so the thought of leaving me again causes her physical pain, like it did when she left me.
“Tell me you’re clean, Livvy.” I haven’t been raw with another women since her.
She nods and whispers yes.
“Tell me there’s no one else,” I choke, now running my dick up her wet slit, readying it for the hot plunge. I don’t know what I’ll do if she says yes.
“There’s no one else,” she whispers, no hesitation. I see the truth in her eyes.
I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I cover her and link her hands with mine, so we’re skin to skin, except for the fabric that’s still bunched around her waist and thrust into her tight pussy. Five years simply melt away like shadows in the light.
Our eyes lock. “Tell me you’re mine, angel.”
“Ahhhh, Gray,” she breathes, her eyes closing in pleasure.
I pull out slowly and drive again. It takes three times to seat myself to the hilt of her tight channel. Her smooth walls grip me like a boa constrictor and I know that no other man has been inside her sweetness in some time. And that pleases the fuck out of me, more than it should.
“Tell me.”
“Gray.” She turns her head away. Releasing one hand, I cup her face, turning it back, never losing my slow, methodical rhythm.
“Look into my soul and know that it belongs to only you.”
She closes her eyes. If the clenching of her inner muscles is any indication, she’s close to a second orgasm, so I stop. I deny her. Her eyes fly open.
“You own me, Livvy. You own all of me, so. Tell. Me. You. Are. Mine.”
Her eyes mist, she swallows hard. I move my hips, slowly withdrawing nearly all the way and thrust so hard she expels a harsh breath. “Say it.” I repeat my deliberate movements and start to feel the telltale tingling in the base of my spine. She’s so tight, so hot, so Livvy. I know I won’t last long. I rain kisses on her jaw, her eyelids, her parted mouth. I need her to admit she’s mine before I let us fall.
“Say it, baby. Tell me you’re mine.” I beg quietly in her ear. Her body tightens. It already knows it’s mine. Now I need the words.
Her soft reply makes my heart swell. “I’ve always been yours, Gray. Always.”
Thank Jesus.
Her legs quiver and her snug pussy has become even more so. Her climax is almost upon her. I’m unable to hold back any longer and with her admission, I have one sole goal. To fuck her hard, sending her over the edge one more time before I follow.
Peeling myself from her sweat-soaked skin, I grab her legs, tilt her pelvis higher and pound into her with a fierce, rough pace. Our gazes lock until the rush of rapture forces her head back, her body convulsing. I swiftly follow with the most intense, most euphoric orgasm I’ve had since the night I asked Livvy to marry me.
My legs are liquid, but I manage to scoop her up and sit in the cushioned leather chair behind me, still tucked inside her wet heat. She clings to me, her head on my shoulder.
We’re quiet, only our harsh breaths filling the room. I honestly couldn’t be more content than I am right now. I love this woman to the deep recesses of my soul and as our breathing stabilizes and our bodies cool, I realize that while it’s eating me up inside to not know what caused her to leave me so long ago, I’m willing to simply take what I can get.
Her.
She’s it for me. She bewitched me the second our eyes met and while I thought I’d done a decent job at moving on, I realize that I’ve been a shadow of myself without her in my life. I feel like I can see in color for the first time in years.
It’s funny how the mind can so easily fool itself. With the loss of someone you love, you trick yourself into thinking you’re managing, coping, living. But you’re not. You’re simply existing.
If the sun is suddenly stripped away, eventually you’d get used to darkness. You have to. It’s your new normal and you can’t escape. It becomes part of your daily life. And after so long in the blackness you fool yourself into thinking you’ve adjusted. You think you can live. Thrive, even. But then the sunshine returns and it’s bright and warm and comforting.
It’s joy.
It’s life.
It’s your salvation. And you realize how very wrong you were. You weren’t living at all. You were in a cold, lonely hell without those life-giving rays and you can finally see things clearly for the first time since you were plunged into that dark, bleak space.
Sitting here, quietly stroking Livvy’s hair in comfortable silence, I’m hit with the realization that I’ve really been living in darkness this whole time and my sunshine has finally returned. My purpose in life finally restored. My blackness vanished. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let anyone, or anything, throw me into that dark void ever again.
Author Bio
This is the hardest part…talking about myself.
I’m just a regular ol’ Midwest girl who likes Game of Thrones and am obsessed with Modern Family and The Goldbergs. I run, I eat, I run, I eat. It’s a vicious cycle. I love carbs, but there’s love-hate relationship with my ass and thighs. Mostly hate. I like a good cocktail (oh hell…who am I kidding? I love any cocktail). I’m a huge creature of habit, but I’ll tell you I’m flexible. I read every single day and if I don’t get a chance…watch the hell out, I’m a raving bitch. My iPad and me: BFFs. I’m direct and I make no apologies for it. I swear too much. I love alternative music and in my next life I want to be a bad-ass female rocker. I hate, hate, hate spiders, telemarketers, liver, acne, winter and loose hairs that fall down my shirt (don’t ask, it’s a thing).
I have a great job (no…truly it is) with the largest wholly-owned insurance company in the United States. My kids and my husband are my entire world and I’d never have made it this far without them. My soul mate husband of nearly twenty-eight years provides unwavering support and my two grown children know the types of books I write and they don’t judge their mom anyway (and my daughter is a beta reader even…yes, that can be awkward… very).
Although Forsaking Gray is the fourth full-length novel that I have published in less than a year, I still consider myself a virgin author. I’m sincerely humbled by each and every like on my FB page or sign-up for my newsletter or outreach from someone who has read and loved my books. I still can’t get over the great support and reviews for my Regent Vampire Lords series from bloggers and my “fans.” I’ve made more friends in the last year than I’ve made in my life and I’m a pretty affable person. It’s surreal. I’m pretty sure it always will be.
In short, I am blessed…and I know it.
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Other Books By KL Kreig
Author Q&A
Why Brothers? Why is it a component that works so well in your stories?
As a reader, I love getting invested into series that can be read as stand-alone, but that also have multiple characters being developed, each getting their own book and their own HEA, be it brothers, friends, or business partners. As a writer, while each book focuses on an individual couple, this approach also allows me to deepen my characters throughout multiple books.
As far as the Colloway Brothers go, I wanted to create a series of stories that showcased their strong familial bond, but was also realistic in the fact that looks can be deceiving and not every family is perfect, even though they may appear to be so on the outside. I also really love to write a strong male character being brought to his knees by his soul mate.
Why do you think serial romance fiction is so popular?
I think for the reasons I stated above. As a reader, when you spend hours reading a great book and you get invested in the characters, it’s sad to read the last word, but awesome to know you’ll be seeing them again in a subsequent book. I also think it’s closer to real life, because we all have ongoing relationships and it’s nice to see how some of your favorite characters are doing… it’s like visiting a good friend you don’t get to see very often. It just brings a smile to your face.
Where do you do your writing?
Multiple places. I get tired of sitting in the same spot. It smothers my creativity. I’ve written at the kitchen table, the kitchen island, my home office, on my couch, on a plane, in a car, on a train, in a hotel room, sitting in bed. You name it, I’ll write there (well, except for the tub, that’s a big no-no). I honestly write any chance I get or when I have an idea hit me. I’ve even been known to whip out my phone in the grocery store (and once even in the bathroom…yup) and make notes because I thought of good dialogue or an idea I’m afraid I’ll forget so I have to get it down before it disappears. I take my computer with me practically everywhere. My husband finds it very annoying.
Can you read novels as you write or do you find it befuddling?
I always, always, always read. I read as much as I write, if not more. My goal on Goodreads this year is 150 books and I’m already ahead of schedule. Reading is like breathing or sleeping or eating to me. You don’t want to see what happens to me if you take my book away.
What role does music play in your process?
Oh my god…HUGE! Every one of my books has a playlist that I’ve used as emotional inspiration for my characters, conversations and scenes, particularly the steamy ones. I’ve written entire books around just ONE SONG. I absolutely love music and couldn’t imagine being able to write without it.
This or that… beer or wine?
Picking a favorite alcohol is like asking me to pick a favorite child. Can’t be done! ....or can it?
Do you daydream about strangers you see in the airport, shopping mall etcetera? And build a romantic scene around them?
I wouldn’t say I daydream about them, but I do pay attention to my surroundings and conversations and I have been known to use them in my books. There are only so many experiences of your own you can draw from. In fact, my friends are now a little afraid of what they say around me for fear it will end up in book somewhere down the line. And many a conversation have.
When you walk in a book store, where do you go first?
To the romance section, of course. Duh.
This or that… boxers or briefs?
Commando.
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