Kathryn Kelly is the author of the Death Dwellers MC Series and Phoenix Rising Rock Band Series. For as long as she can remember, she has been a reader and has always loved books. Although she thought about writing her own books, she never thought she would actually do it. It took a dream from her first hero, Christopher "Outlaw" Caldwell and encouragement by her mother and friends before she put pen to paper and wrote Misled. This has been one of the most rewarding and amazing journeys of her life and she owes it all to her readers and fans. In her spare time, (admittedly not much), she likes scotch, champagne, music, and the New Orleans Saints. In reality, she's just a girl next door, a biker babe in her imagination, a mom, and a daughter.
Georgie has destroyed me. She's threatened my freedom and everything I've worked so hard to build. My band, my music, is the last thing on my mind. I want her to pay for all she's done.
But she's still my Georgie, and my desire for her is as hot as ever. She's my inferno, my biggest mistake and my greatest reward.
My fans see her as their idol's downfall. When her life is threatened, I will come to realize there's nothing in the world more important to me than her.
She's my flame.
I'm her anchor.
Together, we're explosive.
We are incendiary.
For mature audiences only. Incendiary is not a standalone novel, but is the conclusion to Georgiana McCall's and Sloane Mason's story that began in Inferno.
His brown-black hair is damp, and he’s wearing his gold hoops missing when I saw him earlier. Earlier too, he was in jeans and a T-shirt, not plain pajama bottoms. Muscles rope his inked arms. Each predatory move that draws him closer mesmerizes me. His six pack ripples on his flat stomach. He’s just beautiful, his hair sexily tousled and his blue eyes roaming over me, studying me from head to toe. Flushing at the sight of his hard cock tenting the silk, I spin away from him, holding Bryn tighter and patting her back.
Her outfit is wet. Not from water on my hands, either. From pee. Further exploration reveals a puffy diaper. I forgot to change her, the reason she’s crying. Not knowing to provide the simplest need for her shames me. I didn’t even think to check. My heart and my head hurt at my stupidity. Sloane plucks her out of my arms. I stare at the floor, ashamed, confused, and hurt.
“Come here, Georgiana.”
This latest fuck-up steals the last of my resolve, so I don’t disobey his quiet command. Tripping my way to where he’s standing at the changing table, I intend to suffer whatever consequences he dishes out, as well as ignore how beautiful and sexy he still is. He’s never lost his appeal or his awareness of the power he has over not only me but most women.
My mother included. I clench my hands into fists at the sickening thought.
Images of him and Mom together play in my head. “How could you have slept with her and me?”
His nostrils flare and his face, so long in my dreams, hardens. “I’m not discussing my affair with your mother.”
“You owe me that much.” I’ve had months to come to terms with this. Why bring it up now? It’ll only create unnecessary drama between us, and we have enough to deal with as it is.
He glares at me. “Owe you? You’re wrong, Georgiana. I don’t owe you a fucking thing.”
Folding my arms, I lift my chin. “How many times did you make love to her?”
“Never,” he snarls. “I’ve fucked her twice.”
“It’s semantics, Sloane, and you know it.”
He growls a sigh.
“We were together already?”
“Do you really want to know the gory details of Cassandra and I fucking?” he mocks.
I glance away, filled with a sense of loss and sadness. Sloane never promised anything. Not a life together. Not happiness. And definitely, not fidelity.
“Did you hear me?” he snaps. “Undress Bryn, while I find a diaper and a new outfit for her. She needs wiping off.”
So that’s it. Nothing more about my mother or if he intends to see her again. If he has seen her again. Although asking where he learned to care for babies is mundane in comparison, I stay silent. We don’t have that type of relationship anymore.
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