NEW RELEASE: On The Edge by C.D. Reiss
“In Iraq, I promised you a bed of rose petals.”
He grabbed my hand under the table, tightening his grip as if he were falling from a precipice and our connection was the only thing saving him from certain death.
“They were beautiful.”
“You smell like apples. Roses were wrong.” There was nothing soft about his tone, but his quiet words were for me alone. “I want everything to be right for you.”
“Caden, look at me.”
I caught his gaze and held it. He was confident. Arrogant. Sure he had a place in the world. And under that was the man who needed me to be that place.
“If I could…” He smiled and shook his head at a silly thought he wanted to dismiss but couldn’t—a contradiction in keeping with the whole man I married. “If I could write my love in the sky, it wouldn’t be big enough. I’d run out of room. I’d fall out of the air trying to say it all.”
He was saying it all.
And he was falling out of the sky to do it.
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Who do you love?
The decent man you married?
The surgeon shattered during the war?
The emotionless Dominant who appears in his eyes more and more often?
All of them?
Even when he breaks you?
Even when he makes you beg?
Is there no pain or pleasure he cannot deliver?
What will you sacrifice to heal him?
Will he sacrifice his sanity to protect you from the exquisite torture of his cruel hands?
This is more than a marriage.
It’s a crack at the edges of the mind and heart.
It’s a promise written in the heavens and a wound splitting the sky.
Love may be the death of both of you.
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Meet The Author: CD Reiss
CD Reiss is a New York Times 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 give her a big enough ego to write novels.
She's frequently referred to as the Shakespeare of Smut which is flattering but hasn't ever gotten her out of chopping that cord of wood.
If you meet her in person, you should call her Christine.