Author: Skye Warren
heiress without a cause.
Two billionaires determined to claim her.
And a war fought on the most dangerous battlefield–the heart.“What an incredible book! Survival of the Richest has everything —
Skye Warren’s beautiful writing, a sexy, compelling story; intricate
characters, and a provocative love triangle that will captivate you until the
very end.” ~ New York Times bestselling author Nina Lane
My story starts with a plunge into the cold water of Manhattan’s harbor.
A strong hand hauls me back onto the deck of the luxury yacht. Christopher was
supposed to be my enemy. Instead he protects me with fierce determination.
That should have been my happily ever after, but then Sutton appeared–ruthless
and seductive. He doesn’t care that my heart belongs to someone else, because
he’s determined to win. No matter the cost.
It’s an impossible choice, but I can’t have them both.
heats at the words, at the remembered pleasure of Sutton’s mouth on my sex.
Christopher looks down at me, as if he can feel the heat emanating from between
my legs. His expression turns stark, as if he’s in pain. That’s only fair,
because I’m in pain too.
deserve better than that,” Christopher says, but there’s no way to pretend he’s
talking about Sutton. He’s talking about himself and we both know it.
me what I want, which is something you might try next time you like a girl.”
that,” he says, harsh again.
step forward and place a hand on his chest, feeling the way his heart beats
strong and fast. He may want to be unaffected by me, but he isn’t. I tilt my
face up toward him. “You didn’t imagine me naked in the cabin later?”
a breath. “You were too young then.”
come out as a whisper. “What about now? Will you do what Sutton said—imagine me
in this dress when you go home after this?”
fucking decent,” he says, even though the silk covers every part of me. It’s a
perfectly respectable dress, when it’s not hitched up around my waist.
thank Sutton for this,” I say, because it’s true. He’s the only reason I lean
forward and place my lips against Christopher’s, touching them in some terrible
attempt to show him what he gave up, to prove to myself that I don’t care about
either of them.
sucks in a breath. For a second I think he’s going to pull away. He stiffens
and grasps my hair with his fist. Easy enough for him to stop the kiss. Instead
he dips my head back and deepens it, exploring my mouth with his teeth, his
tongue. Opening me wider until I whimper. Pulling me close until I can feel how
hard he is beneath his slacks.
hand fists in the gauze of my dress, and I realize he’s holding me with both
hands clenched—one in my hair and one in my clothes. I don’t know whether he’s
doing it so he doesn’t have to touch me or because it’s a way to control me
without bruising me. He uses both hands to tug me closer; I’m pressed so
tightly I can’t imagine getting away.
Sutton had been raw sensuality and playfulness, Christopher is pure
determination. He kisses me like he’s a conquering army, like I’m made of gold
he has to grasp—or lose forever.