Logan Kade is FINALLY here! #sexmachine #fallencrest #logankade
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You think you know me?
Manwhore. Partier. Fighter.
You know what? You’re right. I’m all those things. F*ck with what’s mine and I’ll f*ck you ten times harder. Suspensions. Arrests. You think I care?
So yeah, I may fit the bad boy image, but there’s so much more you don’t know.
I’m loyal to a damned fault. I’ll never leave your side. The real Logan Kade isn’t a manwhore. When I love, I love hard and completely.
Taylor saw that side of me. Inside of me. She saw my darkness and pain, and the second she did, she owned me.
You may think you know me…
…but she’s the only one who sees me.
Someone new had arrived at the party, and turning around, I assumed it was Logan Kade. I could only see the back of him. He was talking to a group of guys right outside the back door, and someone motioned in our direction.
Logan lifted his head, looking right at us.
From the back, he was the finest specimen I’d seen in a long time. Tall. Lean. Broad shoulders. Trim waist. His shirt clung to his form, outlining his lithe build. He was obviously an athlete. Guys couldn’t get that look unless they played sports on an almost-daily basis and for hours at a time. Others might try to mold and sculpt their bodies to look as good as this one, but their efforts never played out.
Even the back of his neck was delicious. His shirt hugged the muscles of his shoulder and the ridges where his neck and shoulders became one. His hair had a crew cut. When he finally glanced over his shoulder again, looking in the direction the other guy had pointed, his eyes found mine. They held firm.
I swallowed, feeling like I’d just gotten the wind knocked out of me. He was breathtaking.
Dark chocolate eyes. Long eyelashes I would’ve killed for when I was younger—hell, I still would. He had an angular face with high cheekbones, and the front of him matched his back. His biceps bulged, and his shirtsleeves tightened around them for a second before they relaxed. The outline of washboard abs was visible through his shirt. His jeans sealed the image, making my mouth water, and I finally pulled my eyes away.
I had to. I hadn’t reacted to a guy like this in a long time.
He stared back at me for a moment, a mask over his face, before he started laughing. “You are feisty.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Do you not know me? Feisty women are my specialty.”
He was full-on laughing now. “Have you not met me?”
I didn’t begin writing until after undergraduate college. There’d been storylines and characters in my head all my life, but it came to a boiling point one day and I HAD to get them out of me. So the computer was booted up and I FINALLY felt it click. Writing is what I needed to do. After that, I had to teach myself how to write. I can’t blame my teachers for not teaching me all those years in school. It was my fault. I was one of the students that was wishing I was anywhere but at school! So after that day, it took me lots of work until I was able to put together something that resembled a novel. I’m hoping I got it right since someone must be reading this profile! And I hope you keep enjoying my future stories.
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