Red Hot Candy(Red Hot Boxed Sets)

By: Dani Dundee

Red Hot Candy





22 All-New Sweet to Spicy Delicious Romance Books

By Bestselling Authors

about Alpha Males, Billionaires, Cowboys,

and More for Your Summer Reading





Jo Raven | Lacey Silks | Blair Babylon

Olivia Rigal | Daisy Prescott | Sky Corgan

Daizie Draper | Sarah M. Cradit | SJ Mayer

Molly McLain | Olivia Hardin | Mira Bailee

J.C. Valentine | Pavarti K. Tyler | Liv Morris

Jacqueline Sweet | JC Andrijeski | Alison Foster

Gillian Cherry | Layla Wilcox

Irma Geddon | Dani Dundee





Table of Contents





The Things I Never Said by Jo Raven

Perfectly Equipped by Lacey Silks

Billionaires in Disguise: Rae, Kidnapped by Blair Babylon

A Fan-TAB-Ulous Night by Olivia Rigal

Take it Easy by Daisy Prescott

Before Flesh by Sky Corgan

Scorched into Submission by Daizie Draper

Pandora's Box by Sarah M. Cradit

Braving Love by SJ Mayer

Always Enough by Molly McLain

Mine In Dreams by Olivia Hardin

Like Home by Mira Bailee

Unshakeable by JC Valentine

Yearning to Yield by Pavarti K Tyler

First-Class Scoundrel by Liv Morris

Mated in Bearfield by Jacqueline Sweet

Le Moulin by JC Andrijeski

Jesse's Girl by Alison Foster

Dude by Gillian Cherry

Biker Billionaire's Bitch by Layla Wilcox

Swaying Fate by Irma Geddon

Gender Studies 101 by Dani Dundee




THE THINGS I NEVER SAID

Epilogue to Damage Control 1: Micah

by Jo Raven





THE THINGS I NEVER SAID (Epilogue to Damage Control 1: Micah) © Jo Raven 2015





Evangeline loves Micah, Micah loves Evangeline, and it seems like a perfect summer—so why is he acting weird? Withdrawn, distant, not talking about whatever it is that’s bothering him. He won’t tell – and she won’t give up, not until she sees him smile again.





CHAPTER ONE

EVANGELINE





Summer is here, and it’s sticky hot. The park is full of people, children running and screaming in the trimmed grass, dogs barking at each other. There are families with their picnic spread on blankets, athletes jogging or rowing their canoes in the lake… and Micah.

My boyfriend.

I watch him sleep in the fading sunrays, lying on his back in the grass. He’s cast in gold, his hair and lashes glittering, his strong, bare arms made of molten bronze. He looks so relaxed like that, dressed in a black tank top and faded jeans. Relaxed, and gorgeous.

God I love him… It scares me how much I love him.

We’ve only been together two months, but we fought for it, tooth and nail. We survived my crazy ex-boyfriend’s stalking and attack on Micah and his friends and my family’s disapproval. My parents and overprotective brother thought Blake, my ex, was better for me than Micah who lived on the streets for a while and has no family. Boy was he wrong. Blake turned out to be a psycho, while Micah…

Micah is the best thing that ever happened to me. He’s kind and strong, patient and protective. He looks out for me, does everything in his power to make me happy – and I am. From cuddling on the sofa to watch movies to cooking together, taking long walks and posing as he sketches me – and let’s not forget the hot sex, because, oh God, it’s really, really hot – he makes me smile day in and day out. Makes me feel safe. Makes me believe I can do anything I put my mind into. Makes me love him.

And yet…

He’s been acting a bit weird lately, tense and worried-like, his blue eyes going dark when he thinks I’m not looking. When confronted, he shrugs it off, says it’s nothing.

It makes my heart ache to think there could be something, anything wrong between us. What if I am blind to the problem, blinded by my love for him? What if he’s having second thoughts? What if he’s about to break my heart? I know so many broken-hearted girls. I just never thought I could be one of them.

Something my friend Cassie told me about Micah a couple of months back haunts me.

“He’s too gorgeous to be a keeper.”

He is gorgeous, that much is true. His body is lithe and muscular, his arms bulging with muscles where they rest in the grass. His lips are soft, his jaw square, his lashes thick and long. My gaze returns to his lips. I want to touch them, run my fingertip over them. I want to kiss him awake, see the moment his dazed look melts away only to be replaced by something darker and full of desire.

But I hold back and just watch his chest rise and fall, his fingers curl and uncurl, his eyes move under his lids as he dreams.

What is he dreaming of? He never tells. Sometimes I find him in the shower, hands braced on the wall, head bowed. Sometimes he wakes me up and enters me fast and hard, a storm in his eyes. And sometimes he lies there shaking, and the only thing he has admitted to me so far is that his past wasn’t kind to him. That being an orphan, he got the short end of the stick, and his time in group homes and foster homes wasn’t good.

Has to be the understatement of the year. And I wish…

“Ev?”

He’s awake, blue glinting under his golden lashes. His voice is raspy from the cough that was plaguing him until recently. It’s all but gone now, the last reminder of his struggle with Legionnaire’s disease which he caught in one of the group homes where he lived before I met him.

He’s drifting off again. Despite being better, he hasn’t been sleeping so well lately.

Why am I thinking of the past now? It’s tranquil here, with the blue of the lake, the green of the grass and Micah’s gold. He’s with me, and he loves me. I should stop doubting. I should accept happiness.

Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m just scared we’ll end up like my mom and dad, sleeping in the same bed and yet worlds apart, nothing in common, no affection and no desire.

Not that Micah and I live together. He hasn’t asked me to move in with him, and I haven’t offered. I’m scared of so many stupid things…

“Ev… you okay?” Micah reaches for me, and I take his hand, tangle my fingers with his. He turns onto his side, sprawled so gracefully on the lawn, a beautiful statue, eyes heavy-lidded with sleep.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “I’m okay.”

He says nothing, only tugs me closer. I tug back, and the corners of his mouth lift in a faint smile. His fingers tighten around mine and he pulls me to him slowly, inexorably. It was like this from the start, from the first moment I saw him: he’s a flame, and I’m caught in his glow.

I lean back, try to resist.

A sudden sharp tug, and I’m falling on top of him. He rolls, hauling me up so that I’m fully pressed to his body, our noses almost touching, my breasts crushed to his muscled chest.

He chuckles softly at my wide-eyed expression. “Hey there, beautiful.”

And I’m caught again – this time by the sound of his laughter. I love that deep, throaty sound. It makes me want to smile, and at the same time turns me on, a magical thing.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” I gasp when his hands move down to my ass and squeeze. “Micah…”

“Yeah?” He winks at me, and I gasp again as he hardens quickly against my belly. “What’s up? Well, apart from the obvious.”

I laugh, and he silences me with a long, deep kiss. Caught by surprise, ensnared body and soul, I moan when his tongue slips into my mouth and strokes mine. Sparks fly down my spine and my eyes fall closed. The world fades like every time I am with him, my universe shrinking to my desire for him, the need to feel him deep inside me.

So I kiss him back, planting my hands on his broad shoulders and taking my time to taste him, his all-male spice exploding on my tongue. Delicious. I drag my lips over his, our tongues tangling. His hands slide under my short summer dress to my waist, his hips roll up—

A dog barks nearby, startling me. Sounds rush back in, and the world returns into focus.

“Shit.” I break the kiss and push up, breathing hard.

He moans, blinks dazedly as I climb off him and tug my dress back down. “What?”

A mother with her little daughter glare at me and I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle nervous laughter.

“Oh my God. I think we put up quite a show,” I hiss. “The whole park is staring at us.”

“Fuck them.”

I giggle as I turn toward him, realizing a moment later that his voice is strangely cold. He’s lying there, propped up on his elbows, and his blue gaze is distant. His brows are drawn together in a dark frown, even as his chest rises and falls sharply and his arousal is clearly outlined in the material of his jeans.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper.

“I want to kiss my girl in public, like everyone else. Am I not good enough to be here? Maybe I have ‘scum’ written on my forehead? Is it too much to ask—?”

Before I can process what he’s saying, he scrambles up to his feet and storms away.

What the hell happened? I just gape at his broad back as he strides away, too stunned to react. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s the most patient, good-natured person I know. This rant, this lashing out…

This lashing out means something is seriously wrong. It’s not my imagination. Something is troubling Micah, and I’m going to find out what it is and fix it.

Grabbing my bag, I scramble up and run after him, and yeah, everyone in the park is definitely looking at us now.

But Micah is right: fuck them. He is the only person in the world that counts right now and he’s angry.

And if I’m not wrong, that means he’s in pain.