He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not…
New York Times bestselling author Kim Karr turns up the heat in a smoking hot, emotionally compelling new novel that takes you into the world of Manhattan’s elite.
In Toxic, Jeremy McQueen, a sexy, intense, sometimes brooding entrepreneur goes after what he wants—the woman he left behind years ago. Phoebe St. Claire, a put together, in control socialite-turned-CEO has been drifting through life searching for something she thought she’d never find again—the right man to share her future.
Our passion was boundless. Our lust untamed. And our desire endless. He was the only man who ever made me feel alive. Then, I betrayed him.
When he reappeared, I didn’t question it. Trust rarely survives the wrecking ball, so when he let me in back in—I didn’t hesitate.
Maybe I should have.
What began as a bid to save my family business, turned into a second chance at love. It felt so romantic. Working together, side by side, with the man I loved. My dream come true.
Nothing is as good as it seems.
We had our issues, but then again, every couple does. It wasn’t jealousy, or our too-hot sex life that I should have been worried about.
It was his darkside.
I never saw the end coming, until it slammed me in the face. The question is—did he?
Was revenge his plan all along?
Sometimes you have to wonder if your life is too good to be true.
Is it real or just an illusion?
Does the man lying beside you really love you like he says he does?
If the answer is yes, you’re meant to live happily ever after.
If the answer is no, you’re living my life, and nothing will ever be the same.
What you do about it—that’s up to you.
Me, I’m in too deep and there’s no getting out.
I’ll take whatever I can get for as long as I can because I know when it’s over…
I’ll never find another man like him.
Phoebe St. Claire
“Where are you?” he asked.
“I know. Where in your apartment are you?”
“On my bed.”
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Give me a minute.”
I heard stomping up some stairs and then a door closed.
“On my bed,” he said in that same husky tone.
I nearly stopped breathing.
“Are you still there?” he asked again.
“Yes,” my voice was raspy.
In a deep husky voice he said, “Tell me what you’re wearing under your clothes.”
Arousal overtook my mind and I answered quickly. “A bra and panties.”
“Take off your clothes and tell me what they look like.”
Flushing from head to toe I managed to say, “Jeremy!”
“Phoebe, I’ve seen you in your underwear. Christ, I’ve seen you naked. Just put your phone on speaker, dim the lights, and describe to me the lucky pieces of fabric covering your tits and pussy.”
Shock and desire swarmed through me in equal measure.
Memories of his dirty mouth came back in a flash.
I’d loved it so many years ago, loved when we were flesh to flesh. And this was different. I’d never had phone sex before. Had no idea how to, but I knew I was about to find out. I wasn’t going to turn him down. I wanted this.
The sexual tension that had blossomed between us was causing me to go insane. I was touching myself when I woke up in the middle of the night, and then in the shower before work, and last night and the night before after I hung up the phone with him. I’d been masturbating to the thought of him nonstop. Phone sex had to be so much better.
“Give me a minute,” I whispered needing to ease into the more intimate exchange that I knew was coming. I stripped out of my skirt and blouse and all but tore my hose pulling them off. The lights were already dimmed, so that wasn’t an issue. I heard his own mattress squeaking and wondered if he had started without me.
My phone beeped again and I looked down. This time it was an incoming call from Jamie. I ignored it. Then, I took a deep breath and a giant leap of faith as I sat on my bed in my underwear.
Just as I was thinking about what I could say, he spoke. “I have to be honest with you,” he said.
My heart sank. I didn’t like any conversation that started with those words.
With a heavy exhale, he said, “I’ve been hard all week just thinking about you and I have to admit, my wrist hasn’t been worked out this much in a long time.”
Picturing his hand, his cock, his hips, and the perfect choreographed movement of all three had me barely cognizant.
“I’m here,” I said in the raspiest tone. “Then I’ll be honest too. It’s possible that I’ve made myself come more times this week than I have in my entire life.”
I wasn’t exactly comfortable initiating a kinky conversation. But I could follow his lead.
“Jesus Phoebe, you can’t talk that way to me when I’m not near you.”
Something primal erupted within me. “And I want to do it again.”
I moaned at his use of the word fuck. It sounded entirely too delicious.
Equally as delicious was his sexy laugh that followed. “So what are we going to do about this dilemma?”
I sunk back into my pillows and pictured his face—his lips parted and his eyes heavy-lidded.
I knew what I wanted to do about it.
Did he want to do the same thing?
I hoped so.