Down to My Soul concludes the journey
Rhyson Gray and Kai Pearson began in Book 1 of the Soul Series, My Soul to
Keep! You must read Book 1 first.
Release Week Pricing
Both Books 99¢ This Week
RHYSON
She doesn't wear my ring.
We never stood before a preacher.
The only vows exchanged were between our bodies; between our souls.
But she was mine and I was hers until I ruined it. I have to believe that every day,
every step, every breath brings me closer to making things right.
To making her mine again.
KAI
I've seen promises broken.
I know love makes no guarantees.
But things were different for Rhys and me, until he lied, and I walked away. Only
there's a chain between our hearts that I can't break. Even if I forgive him, a shadow
from my past hangs over us; over this love that reaches all the way down to my soul.
Book 2 - Down to My
Soul
Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/1530629187/ref=cm_sw_su_dp
Book 1 - My Soul to
Keep
*Add the
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E X C E R P T
“Rhys?”
His name rushes from my mouth on a breath, and I’m off the bed, hurling myself at
him top speed. Somehow my legs wrap around his waist and my arms tangle behind
his neck. I couldn’t hold back and play this cool if I wanted to. Every part of me that’s
been fighting to stay focused, to keep working, to be
on, collapses
against him. Surrenders to the feel of him in my arms and the smell of him. My
fingers lace through his hair. I scatter kisses across his face, the sharp angles and
taut skin warm beneath my lips.
“So I take it you’re happy to see me?” He chuckles, pressing his forehead to mine,
hands squeezing my thighs.
“Happy?” I release something that’s half a sob, half a laugh, pulling back a few
centimeters to let him breathe. “What gave you that idea?”
We stop grinning at the same time, laughter dissolving, our bodies exchanging
sensual information. My breasts flattened to his chest. His erection growing and
hardening against my core. Our breaths mingling and hearts tattooing beats through
our clothes and into the other’s skin.
I move first, leaning in to capture his bottom lip between mine, sucking and pulling
between my teeth. Licking into his mouth like there’s honey hidden inside. He
groans into the kiss, walking backward until we reach the bed and dropping me so I
bounce a little, his eyes roving over me head to toe.
“Pep, what the hell are you wearing?” Humor and desire tussle in his eyes.
I look down, laughing when I see the young Jackson brothers emblazoned across my
chest, my legs ending in the footed bottoms.
“If I’d known you were coming, I could have made sexier arrangements.”
“Arrangements?” He quirks a dark brow, placing a knee on either side of my legs,
hovering over me like a promise. “Lingerie would have been nice. Other rock stars
have girlfriends who wear lingerie.”
“Oh, are you referring to
yourself as a rock star now?” I grin up at him,
feeling whole for the first time since he kissed me goodbye a week ago. “That’s not
egomaniacal at all. Is there a club? You guys have rock star meetings? Does one of
you take rock star minutes?”
“You
are sitting in here listening to my music in the dark.” He leans
forward to tug at the zipper beneath my chin. “Maybe you’re actually one of my
crazed fans. Or a groupie. I might even find a Mrs. Rhyson Gray t-shirt around here
somewhere. My girlfriend doesn’t like those.”
“No, she doesn’t.” I shake my head, eyes never straying from his.
A small frown jerks his brows together. He tugs again at the zipper, but it doesn’t
budge.
“Pep, it’s stuck,” he says.
“Sometimes it does that,” I answer easily, enjoying the frustration spreading over his
expression as he keeps pulling and it keeps staying.
He places my hand over his cock, hard and poking through his jeans.
“Well, it’s not exactly a good time for it to
do that.”
I laugh, grasping my zipper and tugging. Wow, it really is stuck. These are vintage
PJs, older than I am and threadbare in places. I’m surprised the zipper hasn’t rusted
before now. I sit up, bringing our bodies closer as I jiggle the little hook a few times.
Nothing.
“Just how attached are you to this Jackson Five onesie?” His glance burns hot across
my subtle curves visible through the thin flannel, telegraphing his intentions.
“Well this
is Michael’s original nose.” I release a fake exasperated sigh.
“But I do have my sewing kit.”
“All I needed to hear.”
Sorry, boys.
He grabs the two ends of the collar separated by the zip line and pulls until there’s a
ripping sound, the panels falling back to reveal my naked breasts and my panties. A
wicked grin spreads across lips.
“You naughty girl.” He runs a finger over the writing on the front of my calendar
panties, carrying a current that simultaneously hitches my breath and gets me wet.
“Wearing Monday panties on a Thursday. My little rebel.”
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About Kennedy Ryan
I just can't write about myself in third person for one more bio! I'm a wife, a mom, a
writer, an advocate for families living with autism. That's me in a nutshell. Crack the
nut, and you'll find a Southern girl gone Southern California who loves pizza and
Diet Coke, and wishes she got to watch a lot more television. You can usually catch
me up too late, on social media too much, or FINALLY putting a dent in my ever-
growing To Be Read list! I love to hear from readers at
kennedyryanwrites@gmail.com.
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