Determined to snap myself out of the imbalanced mess I was sinking into, I channeled my energy into searching the internet for every piece of information I could find on my subject. I spent hours with my eyes glued to the monitor all for the sake of research.
Or at least that’s what I repeatedly told myself.
There was hardly any information online about Dr. Kean Bennett, which I expected. However, there were more pictures of him available than I had originally thought. Much to my fascination, one thing was apparent. The doctor enjoyed the company of the opposite sex. Like, really enjoyed. There were dozens of photos with breathtaking beauties draped all over him like accessories to his wardrobe.
I enlarged thumbnail after thumbnail, unknowingly taking my time as I perused each one.
Then I stumbled upon a photo that had my mind floating away in a carnal haze. In it, the doctor had his hand fisted in the hair at the back of the neck of a striking brunette as he kissed the hell out of her. It was as if he refused to ask politely for a kiss but instead demanded her mouth with a passion I didn’t understand.
I lacked experience when it came to demanding men. My dating history consisted of tender moments with men treating me as if I was fragile. They seemed to think I would break with the slightest pressure or roughness. But in this photo, the doctor appeared nothing but rough.
As I took in the fervor of that kiss, imagining what it would feel like to be the one he was kissing had my core fluttering. Would he barely brush his mouth against my lips, so teasingly soft it would feel like a feather had brushed across them? Or would he force his tongue into my mouth, ripping from me whatever the hell he wanted?
Dangerous thoughts swirled around loosely in my head. My foot tapped anxiously against the floor, matching the pulsating between my thighs.
It was then I was a hundred percent sure Dr. Kean Bennett was dangerous.
I hardly knew anything about him, yet I recognized he held the power that could destroy every inch of the carefully constructed layers that protected my soul. Layers so important to my survival because they kept contained secrets of the girl buried underneath.
For my own sanity she remained there, never exposed to the world because if she were, I knew I couldn’t control her. She was the type of girl who wanted none of the gentleness in her existence but instead craved a roughness that would cause her to explode.
I couldn’t allow her to escape.
Buy now on Amazon