Excerpt Written In The Scars by Adriana Locke

Jul 162019

Written In The Scars by Adriana Locke

Falling in love is easy.

Falling out of love is the hardest thing in the world.

And Elin and Ty Whitt are terrible at it.

The first time the local basketball star smiled at Elin, she was a goner. It was just so damn easy to fall for the dark-haired hometown hero with his charming smile and strong, athletic build.

Thousands of sleepy smiles, aimless drives down country roads, and squeaks of the backdoor after a swing shift later, reality hits. And it hits hard. Falling in love was definitely the easy part. Watching it break apart was impossible.

Through the tears, the second-guesses, the memories of a life built together, the world keeps spinning. With each turn comes clarity and hope—sometimes in the form of a pair of muddy boots by the back door or from the words of a wise friend.

When Ty shows back up with a new found determination to put his family back together, Elin’s torn between the fights of the past and the possibility of a new start. This is the man that holds her heart, the man she loves beyond anything else. But this is also the one person in the world that can cause her the most pain.

Life’s not always easy. Love’s not for the faint of heart. But with life comes lessons and Ty and Elin have the scars to prove it. But it’s their love written in those scars that will hold them together … or break them apart.

A brand new STANDALONE ROMANCE from USA Today Bestselling author Adriana Locke.

Excerpt Written In The Scars by Adriana Locke

Thunder cracks outside just as my back hits the wall. My chest rises and falls, touching his with every intake of breath. He peers down at me, his eyes boring into mine.
“There hasn’t been a damn thing easy about this,” he says, his breath hot against my skin.
“That was your choice.”
I try desperately to hold on to the anger that’s being replaced quickly with my need, my desire, my craving for this man. The only man I’ve ever loved. The man that is my other half—whether it’s fucked up or not. Being this close to him puts me at a disadvantage, but there’s no denying the little balm of peace that’s washed over some of my wounds by his presence. By his touch. By the way he’s looking at me.
“It sure as hell didn’t feel like my choice,” he gruffs.
“Maybe that’s the problem,” I say, the words full of hesitation. “Maybe we aren’t the same people anymore. Maybe we’ve changed. I know you’re not the Ty I once knew.”
“No, you’re right,” he says with an arrogant shrug of his muscled shoulders. “I love you more than I ever have.”
“Fuck you,” I say, a slip to my voice that he hears.
His eyes glimmer, distracting me, and I don’t see the kiss coming. But the feeling of his lips against mine sends a zip of energy screaming through my veins.
“Ty!” I object half-heartedly, pressing him away with only a portion of the gumption I could put behind it if I wanted to. He doesn’t care. He just kisses me harder, his lips soft and smooth like I remember.
My knees go weak, like it’s some kind of first kiss, my breathing ragged like the first time he kissed me under the steps at the high school.
He drops his grip on my wrist and clenches my hips with both hands. His lips are unrelenting, working mine with such precision, such skill, that it’s all I can do to follow along.
And really, it’s all I want to do.
Our kisses grow quicker, our breathing more labored. My head is spinning, shouting at me to stop the madness. My body, my heart, lobbying in tandem to stay put because this is where I’m supposed to be.
I can’t process the arguments. All I can do is fall into an easy rhythm, be played like an instrument in the hands of the man that knows it like the back of his hand. A man that’s played it a million times, that’s crafted how it plays by his touch.
My fingers find the back of his hair and I lace them through his wet locks. He growls against my lips, the heat of his breath tingling my mouth and eliciting a fire between my thighs.
His fingers dig into my hips, his body pressing mine into the wall. The intensity of the contact at every level makes me desperate for more.
Ignoring the tick of my subconscious that tries to remind me why I shouldn’t be here, my hands hurriedly find the hem of his shirt. It’s wet and heavy, and when my skin touches the defined lines of his abdomen, we both flinch.
My fingertips skirt his chiseled torso, his body rolling against my skin, itching for connection the same as me. In a swift movement, I find the waistband of his jeans and frantically undo the button. The zipper slips down over his hardened cock.
“Ah,” I moan as his lips finally leave mine and work their way to the skin just below my ear.
Before I can register it, my shirt is up and over my head.
“Fuck, E,” he breathes as he takes in my nude body. “Damn, baby.”
“Ty,” I whisper, my voice barely heard over the storm raging outside. It’s no match for the explosion happening inside me.
His eyes never leave mine as he slips off his shoes and jeans. I watch, pinned to the spot by the words he’s telling me without saying anything at all.
“Come here, sweetheart,” he whispers as the light in the bedroom flickers and the power goes off.
My hands shake as I reach for him in the darkness. He takes my hand mid-air, like he knew where I’d be, and guides me to him. Our bodies press together, skin to skin, our hearts thumping at the same frenzied pace.
“God,” he mutters, holding me tight against him.
“Yeah?” he asks as his fingers stroke my back.
The war raging inside me tears me in half. For once in my life, I go not with what makes sense, but what makes me feel better.
This time, just this once, I’m going to give in. After this, I know what I’ll have to do and it’s been a long time coming.
I take a deep, shaky breath and go for it. “Fuck me before I change my mind.”

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