Beautiful Bastard captivated me. It hooked it’s dirty, naughty claws in me and wouldn’t let go till I sucked down every last drop.
Bennett Ryan and Chloe Mills have the perfect love-hate relationship; they love to hate each other. Bennett, Mr. Beautiful Bastard himself and Chloe’s boss, comes off as an uptight jerkwad. He’s demanding, rigid, and most times arctic. He expects perfection. Chloe can hold her own when it comes to him though. She is driven, determined, and doesn’t take crap. Get these two in a room together and my advice would be to hide the knives.
If only he would keep his mouth shut, he’d be perfect. A piece of duct tape would do the trick.
Underneath all that detestation is an equally sexual attraction that erupts whenever they’re alone.
I wanted to slap him, and then pull him up by his shirt and lick his neck.
Miss Mill’s, how I hated her, how much I craved her…
These two alone anywhere, and I do mean anywhere…stairwell, dressing room, parking garage…just about short circuited my Kindle. The sex between them was passionate, fanatical, and primal. When they were in that moment together no one else existed. They couldn’t stay away from each other no matter how much they tried or said they loathed one another. Each time they swore to themselves would be the last. But, they always came back for more.
I absolutely loved this book! I loved that we got both their POVs. Bennett’s thoughts about his attraction to Chloe had me laughing. He was disgusted with himself, but wouldn’t give her up. Chloe was appalled with her behavior. She knew better than to let it continue, but she too couldn’t stay away. What starts off as gritty, angry sex eventually develops into something more. But, when you’re sleeping with your boss how far can it really go?
Lauren Billings and Christina Hobbs are a perfect match in collaboration heaven. I anxiously await their next one.
My favorite quotes that pretty much sums Chloe and Bennett up comes from Bennett’s musings.
I felt possessive of her. Not in a romantic sort of way, but in a “hit her over the head, drag her off by the hair, and fuck her” way. Like she was my toy and I was keeping the other boys in the sandbox from playing with her. How sick was that? If she ever heard me admit to that, she would cut off my balls and feed them to me.
The look in her eyes told me that under any other circumstances, I would either already be naked with her on top of me, or lying in a pool of my own blood on the rug.