Meet The Beckett Boys. Three Brothers. Each One Dirtier, Rougher, and Sexier Than The Next…

A standalone romance with a guaranteed HEA

JAX

I want to be Brooklyn’s first.

I want to bend her over her dorm room bed, shove that dress up and take her from behind. Mess up her hair, grip it in my hands, yank her head back and plunge my tongue into her mouth.

She thinks I’m a cocky jerk, but I’m not imagining her reaction to me—her fevered blush, her nervous glances, her racing pulse. She doesn’t like me, but she wants me.

Oh, Brooklyn tells herself she’s immune to my charms, but she’s not. And she’s practically daring me to prove it.

Challenge accepted, darling.

I’ll let her think right now that she’s in control, that I believe her words. But her body gives it all away.

This girl aches to be touched, licked. Screwed.

I tell myself that I should leave her alone. Tell myself she’s better off without me. That some other guy can help her loosen up, a guy who wants a more serious relationship. A guy who’s more compatible with her.

But everything in me points in her direction, beckons me to her.

I’m in over my head with Brooklyn, and the hell if I know what to do.

Because I can’t stop being who I am…and who I am will ultimately end up destroying us. The smart thing would be to let her walk away. Let her think I’m just some drunk asshole not worth her time. But it would kill me to have her believe that of me.

Even if deep down, I believe it about myself.

No, it’s not an option to just let her go, despite the spectacular mess that’s going to occur when we end.

Because we will end.

I’m not ready to change who I am.

BROOKLYN

I know better than to be with a man like Jax.

I know better, but I can see the arousal in his eyes, how dark they are, how intently he stares at me.
Like he wants to consume me bit by bit.

And God it’s stupid, but I want it too.

My whole body burns and pulses in response to his wicked words.

I need to fight this. He’s dangerous.

But part of me wants to believe he thinks I’m special, too. That I’m different. That I’m worth more than just a casual one-off fling.

He’ll never want anything other than that, though.

He wants to keep being wild and rough. No matter how close he and I get, it’s always going to be the same thing. Me pretending I’m not upset about who he is, that I’m perfectly okay dating a guy like him and keeping it casual. When the reality is, I’m not. Because I’m not a wild girl—not in his way, at least.

In the end, I’m going to want more, and he’s never going to be able to give it to me. So how long do I let us go on before facing that fact?

Every time he touches me, I realize what this emotion I’m feeling is.

Bliss. Sheer, utter bliss.

It’s a dangerous relative of the word I can’t let myself start to think.

The word that could break me in two.