I discovered my ex’s secret. Now I’ll do anything to claim her for good. I’m Griffin Reed—real estate’s bad boy and a cutthroat bastard. Trust is a four-letter word and everyone is disposable…except Britta Stone. Three years ago, she was my everything before I stupidly walked away. I thought I’d paid for my sin in misery—until the night I learn we have a son together and she’s engaged to another man. Now I’m determined to claim her and make the three of us a family. Since Britta won’t even speak to me, I have to get ruthless.I make the gorgeous, independent single mother a deal: spend twenty-four/seven with me until her wedding day—under my roof and, if I have my way, in my bed. If she doesn’t love me by then, I’ll leave for good. Britta vows she’ll never want me again…but our stolen, passionate kisses make her a liar. I pour on the romance and slowly set about coaxing her surrender. Once she can no longer deny what’s in her heart, then I’ll stop at nothing to prove I more than need her. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ "It’s a dream-inducing story that will undeniably touch your heart and have you cheering for that second chance." - Marie's Tempting Reads **More Than Need You is part of the Ruthless Devotion Contemporary Romance series, but every book can be read as a standalone. A HOT, romantic story with strong language, sexy times, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after!** ✔️ Instant download • Secure transactions • Read on any device Series: Ruthless DevotionMain Characters: Griff & BrittaFormats: eBook, trade paperbackWord Count: 109kPage Count: 336 pagesPrior Reading Necessary? NoTropes: Alpha Hero, Bad Boy/Good Girl, Forced Proximity, He Falls First, Love Triangle, Second Chance Romance, Secret Baby, Single Mom, Workplace Romance 💔 Inside MORE THAN NEED YOU 💔 A big banner across Britta’s backyard stops me cold. Congratulations on your engagement, Britta and Makaio. Holy. Fuck. Despite the fact that Britta no longer belongs to me, my head races. My blood boils. Now what? I’m hardly in the mood to stand here and toast the bride. But when I find Britta in the crowd, she’s wearing a pencil skirt in a sedate gray that clings to a curve in her hips she didn’t used to have. Her ass looks lusher, rounder. Her hair, though wrapped up in some classic twist, looks longer or thicker—something. The lust that hits me is stronger than ever. Jesus, when am I going to stop wanting her? Three years ago, I corrupted every bit of her purity and left her with a pregnancy she hadn’t planned for—and myself with a mountain of regret. Maxon told me that I broke something in her. Is she bitter? Withdrawn? How much does she hate me now? How many beds has she slept in since mine? I swallow back the ugly questions. No one has noticed me yet. I need to approach her, think of something rational and non-confrontational to say. Or turn around and come back tomorrow, when she doesn’t have a whole bunch of company who will gawk at me the minute I demand to see my son. When she isn’t celebrating her pending union to another man. But I can’t make myself leave. I just stare, willing her to look my way. Suddenly, she stiffens. I see the moment she becomes aware of my presence. She tilts her head toward her right shoulder. The cock of her ear and the jut of her chin follow. She pauses for a sliver of a second, as if she’s not sure she truly wants to know if I’m just beyond her line of sight, making her senses flare. “Britta,” I call out to her. At the sound of my voice, she whips her head around, as if she’s heard a ghost and is eager to dispel the notion I could be standing ten feet behind her. Our eyes meet. My breath stops. God, she’s still so fucking beautiful to me. In that moment I know one thing: no matter what’s happened or how long it’s been, I want her back. Whatever Britta thinks, she’s still mine. A gasp falls from her lips. She drops her drink, her face going pale in an instant. I take a step toward her. Her eyes are still a stunning shade of blue, almost turquoise, like the warmest ocean waters near the shore. They’re slanted and slightly far apart, framed by heavy lashes. The effect is exotic, sexual. Her pillowy mouth sucks me in next, bent with an exaggerated bow on top and a puffy curve on the bottom. I still dream of that mouth. I remember every time I kissed it, every pleasure it ever made me feel. Tonight, she’s exaggerated her pouty lips with a soft gloss that makes me want to tell everyone else at this gathering to fuck off so I can eat it from her now. No one else has lips as enticing or soft as Britta Stone. Believe me, I’ve looked. A lot. I can’t un-remember the way her eyes flared wide for me when her mouth opened to let loose the gasp of orgasm she could no longer keep in. It was one of the sexiest things ever. Even now, I sometimes close my eyes and stroke my cock to her memory. Any wonder seeing her in the flesh is making me harder than hell? Any wonder I’m now determined to have her back? “What are you doing here?” she demands. “Somewhere in the back of your head, you must have known this day would come. I want to see my son.” Her eyes widen in shock. Her chest caves in, as if my words are more of a battering ram than a question. She braces her left hand over her heart. She’s wearing a round diamond solitaire on a simple gold band. The sight of another man’s ring on her finger enrages me. Someday, somehow, someway, I’m going to replace it with my own. 📚Start reading now
